To Thine Own Self Be True?

“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.”

— Romans 12:2 

“To thine own self be true.” It sounds biblical. In fact, it is often quoted as though it were a piece of wisdom from Scripture. But the words do not come from the Bible at all. They come from William Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Polonius gives this advice to his son Laertes before he leaves for France: “This above all: to thine own self be true.”

Over the centuries, those words have taken on a life of their own. Today, we often understand them to mean that we should live authentically, refusing to pretend to be someone we are not. There is wisdom in that idea, but there is no exact biblical equivalent to “be true to yourself.” Part of the reason may be that the modern understanding of the phrase can sometimes become whatever feels right to me must be right. Scripture asks something deeper of us. God calls us to integrity, to an honest heart, and to a life lived according to His truth.

That raises an important question: How does God want us to show ourselves to the world?

For LGBTQ+ Christians, that question can be especially complicated. Many of us have been told that faithfulness to God requires hiding an important part of ourselves. We have been encouraged to remain silent, to change the pronouns when talking about someone we love, to avoid mentioning our relationships, or even to construct an entirely different version of ourselves for family, church, work, or community. Sometimes we have been told that this concealment is what God wants from us.

Yet Scripture repeatedly turns our attention away from appearances and toward what is within us. When Samuel was searching for the man God had chosen to be king, God reminded him, “People look at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart” (1 Samuel 16:7). God already sees us completely. There is no closet door we can close against Him. There is no carefully constructed version of ourselves that can fool God into seeing someone other than who we really are. He sees our sexuality, our fears, our hopes, our desires, our mistakes, our faith, and our capacity to love. Most importantly, He sees our hearts.

That is why Proverbs tells us, “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it” (Proverbs 4:23). Guarding our hearts does not mean hiding them. It means caring for what we allow to shape them. We can spend so much energy worrying about how other people see us that we forget to ask what is happening within us. Are we becoming kinder? More compassionate? More forgiving? More courageous? Are we loving God and loving our neighbors? Are our lives producing the fruits of faith?

Being authentic does not mean that every impulse we have must be followed simply because it comes from within us. Christianity has never taught that. Instead, Paul tells us, “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind” (Romans 12:2). Authenticity is not the end of our spiritual journey. It gives us an honest place from which that transformation can begin.

For LGBTQ+ Christians, “do not conform” can have a particularly powerful meaning. The world has plenty of patterns into which it tries to force us. Some tell us what a “real” man or woman should look like. Some tell us whom we are supposed to love. Some tell us that heterosexuality is the only path to a faithful Christian life. Others may tell us that embracing our sexuality requires leaving faith behind altogether.

We do not have to conform to either expectation.

We can be openly gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, or queer and still seek to become the person God calls us to be. We can embrace who we are while allowing God to transform how we live. Authenticity and discipleship are not opposites. In fact, we cannot truly offer ourselves to God if the self we offer is merely a disguise created to satisfy someone else’s expectations. God is the only One whose expectations we should ultimately seek to satisfy. The world may impose its own expectations about how we should look, whom we should love, and who we should be, but those earthly expectations cannot compare or compete with what God asks of us. What matters is not whether we fit the image others have created for us, but whether we are faithfully becoming the person God calls us to be.

I often talk about the path God wants me to follow, and I pray that He will keep me on that path. To me, being true to myself also means being true to the person God calls me to be. I do not always know where that path will lead, and I certainly do not always follow it perfectly, but I can continue to seek God’s guidance and trust Him to redirect me when I stray. Being authentic does not mean that I alone decide who I should be; it means bringing my whole, honest self before God and asking Him to guide me toward the life He wants me to live. In that way, being true to myself becomes inseparable from being true to God.

Paul also warns us against measuring ourselves by the lives of others. He writes, “Each one should test their own actions. Then they can take pride in themselves alone, without comparing themselves to someone else, for each one should carry their own load” (Galatians 6:4–5). There will always be people eager to tell us who we ought to be. There will always be someone who thinks we are too gay, not gay enough, too religious, not religious enough, too outspoken, or too quiet. If our identity depends upon satisfying everyone else’s expectations, we will spend our entire lives performing for an audience whose approval constantly changes.

Instead, we should examine our own actions. We should ask whether we are living with honesty and integrity. We should ask whether we are treating others with dignity. We should ask whether our relationships reflect love, faithfulness, kindness, and respect. We should ask whether the person we show to the world and the person God sees in our heart are becoming more and more the same person.

Perhaps that is the Christian version of being true to ourselves.

It isn’t simply, This is who I am, so I can do whatever I want. It is something much richer: This is who I am, and I will bring my whole self before God and allow Him to shape the way I live.

There should be no contradiction between living openly as an LGBTQ+ person and striving to live faithfully as a Christian. We do not have to choose between authenticity and faith. We can acknowledge whom we love. We can refuse to be ashamed of who we are. We can live without pretending. At the same time, like every other Christian, we continue striving to become more loving, compassionate, merciful, humble, and faithful.

The Third Letter of John contains a simple expression of joy that beautifully captures this idea: “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth” (3 John 1:4). I love that phrase, walking in the truth, because truth is not something we merely acknowledge privately. We walk in it. We carry it into our relationships, our families, our churches, our workplaces, and our communities. Walking in truth means refusing to build our lives around a lie, whether that lie is about who we are or about who God calls us to become.

Shakespeare told us, “To thine own self be true.” Scripture asks us to go further. Be honest about who you are. Guard your heart. Refuse to let the world force you into its molds. Examine your own life rather than comparing it to someone else’s. Remember that God looks beyond appearances and sees your heart.

And then take that honest, authentic self and walk in the truth.

God does not need the person others have told you to be. He wants you—not a disguise, not a performance, not a carefully edited version designed to earn someone else’s approval. Bring your whole self to Him, and let Him continue transforming you into the person He calls you to be.


Pic of the Day


Moment of Zen: Morning Coffee


Pic of the Day


Apparently, It’s Friday

It’s Friday, but it doesn’t feel like Friday. Sadly, it feels like Saturday. I say “sadly” because that means I still have to work, even though my brain seems convinced it’s already the weekend.

Last night didn’t feel like Thursday night either. In fact, I almost forgot to watch the new episode of Star Trek: Strange New Worlds, which is released every Thursday. Apparently, my internal calendar is a little out of sync this week.

At least Isabella let me sleep until a few minutes after 5 a.m. She usually isn’t that patient when it’s a salmon day. Maybe the days getting shorter are messing with her internal clock, too. Whatever the reason, I got to sleep later than usual, and I’m certainly not complaining.

Now I just have to convince myself that today really is a workday.

Have a great Friday, everyone, and enjoy the weekend ahead!


Pic of the Day


Almost Friday

It’s Thursday, and there really isn’t much to say this morning. I’m drinking my coffee and contemplating the day ahead—which reminds me, I need to stop and get more coffee on the way home. Running out of coffee is not a situation I want to find myself in tomorrow morning.

The only thing on my agenda today is an appointment with my podiatrist this afternoon, so I’m only working half a day. I certainly won’t complain about a short workday, especially this close to the weekend.

Otherwise, it should be a fairly quiet Thursday. Sometimes, there just isn’t much going on, and that’s perfectly fine.

Have a great day, everyone! The weekend is almost here.


Pics of the Day


The Many Voices of Isabella

I think the most exciting thing to happen around here lately occurred this morning when Isabella did something completely unexpected: she let me sleep.

She first tried to wake me up around 3:30 a.m. Normally, once Isabella decides it is time for breakfast, she can be very persistent. This morning, however, she apparently reconsidered. She settled down beside me and patiently waited for me to wake up on my own.

That led to two surprises.

The first came when I rolled over and felt something furry beside me. Usually, if Isabella is that close to my head in the early morning hours, she is meowing at me and doing everything she can to wake me up. Instead, she was just lying there quietly.

The second surprise came when I looked at the clock: 4:45 a.m.

She had let me sleep for more than an hour after her first attempt to wake me. Since she had been such a good and patient girl, I got up and fed her before making myself a cup of coffee.

All of this got me thinking about something I’ve wondered about for years. I have a question for all my fellow cat owners out there: Have you ever had a cat that whispers?

Isabella does.

In fact, Isabella seems to have five different levels of meowing, and after ten years together, I know what most of them mean.

At the quietest level, she whispers. Sometimes almost no sound comes out at all; other times she makes a tiny little “ack ack” noise.

The next level is a short, high-pitched meow. It’s still very soft and usually just enough to let me know she wants my attention.

Then there is what I think of as her unhappy meow. It’s slightly louder and has a plaintive quality to it, almost as if she’s crying. This is the sound she makes when something is not going according to Isabella’s plans.

After that comes what I would consider a normal cat’s meow. Oddly enough, this is probably the one I hear least often. Even at her normal volume, Isabella is usually fairly soft-spoken.

And then there is THE MEOW.

Isabella reserves this one for those moments when she can hear me but can’t see me. If I’m on the other side of a closed door, for example, subtlety goes right out the window. She also uses it when she’s in her cat carrier and the carrier starts moving. Put that carrier in a moving car, and Isabella makes sure that everyone within hearing distance knows exactly how she feels about the situation.

The whispering, though, is unlike anything I’ve ever heard from another cat I’ve had.

My previous cat, Victoria, had essentially one volume: loud. She was part Siamese, and instead of a traditional “meow,” she had that distinctive Siamese “YEOW!” If Victoria had something to say, there was never any question about whether you were going to hear it. Isabella, by comparison, has an entire vocabulary of little whispers, squeaks, cries, meows, and, when necessary, full-volume protests.

I think anyone who has lived with a cat long enough eventually learns that cats have a language all their own. We begin to recognize that one sound means “I’m hungry,” another means “Where are you?” and another means “Something is terribly wrong, and by terribly wrong I mean that you’ve closed a door between us.”

They learn our language, too. Maybe they don’t understand every word we say, but they certainly learn particular words, sounds, tones of voice, and routines. Somehow, over the years, we develop a language together.

This morning, though, Isabella didn’t need to make a sound at all.

She simply curled up beside me and waited.

For a cat who usually believes breakfast should be served promptly at 4 a.m.—if not earlier—that may have been the most eloquent thing she could have said.


Pic of the Day