“And now faith, hope, and love remain, these three, and the greatest of these is love.”
—1 Corinthians 13:13
There is something profoundly grounding about these words from 1 Corinthians. In a world that often measures worth by success, status, or acceptance, the Apostle Paul reminds us that, in the end, only three things endure: faith, hope, and love—and the greatest of these is love.
For LGBTQ+ people, this truth carries particular weight. Too often, we have been told—explicitly or subtly—that we must earn love, prove ourselves worthy of it, or change who we are in order to receive it. But 1 Corinthians 13 dismantles that notion entirely. Love, as Paul describes it, is not conditional. It is not earned. It is a gift—and one that reflects the very nature of God.
Paul writes: “If I speak in the tongues of humans and of angels but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal” (1 Corinthians 13:1). In other words, no matter how eloquent, faithful, or outwardly “righteous” we may appear, without love, it is empty. Faith that excludes, condemns, or harms is not aligned with the love Paul describes.
He continues: “Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude” (1 Corinthians 13:4). Imagine what it means to apply this not only to how we treat others, but how we treat ourselves. Many LGBTQ+ individuals carry wounds—shame, rejection, internalized doubt. But the love God offers is patient with our healing. It is kind to our fears. It does not shame us for who we are.
“It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable; it keeps no record of wrongs” (1 Corinthians 13:5). How different this is from the voices that keep score—of sins, identities, or perceived failures. Divine love does not tally our worthiness. It embraces us fully, as we are.
Perhaps one of the most beautiful lines is this: “It does not rejoice in wrongdoing but rejoices in the truth” (1 Corinthians 13:6). The truth of who you are—your identity, your capacity to love, your place in this world—is not something to be hidden or denied. It is something to be rejoiced in. You are not a mistake. You are not outside the reach of grace. You are, in fact, a reflection of it.
Paul continues with a vision of love that endures: “It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends” (1 Corinthians 13:7–8). In a world where relationships, institutions, and even faith communities may falter, this promise remains: love—true, divine love—does not fail you.
And so we return to the closing verse: “And now faith, hope, and love remain, these three, and the greatest of these is love.” Faith sustains us. Hope carries us forward. But love—love is what defines us, what connects us, and what reveals God most clearly.
Where have you experienced love that reflects God’s patience and kindness? And where might you need to extend that same love—to yourself or to others?
May we rest in the assurance that we are created in love and for love, seen through a compassionate and gracious gaze that is patient, kind, and without condemnation. In moments when judgment—whether from others or from within—tries to take hold, may we remember that love keeps no record of wrongs and does not insist on its own way. And as we move through the world, may our lives reflect that same enduring love—one that bears, believes, hopes, and endures all things, a love that never ends.
Joe
The Closet Professor 
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