The Strength of Love

“I am distressed for you, my brother Jonathan;
Greatly beloved were you to me;
Your love to me was wonderful,
Surpassing the love of women.”

—2 Samuel 1:26

There may be no more beautiful expression of love between two men in the Bible than David’s lament for Jonathan. Jonathan has died in battle alongside his father, King Saul, and David mourns the loss of the man he loved with words of extraordinary tenderness: “Greatly beloved were you to me; your love to me was wonderful, surpassing the love of women.”

For LGBTQ+ Christians, those words can be particularly moving. We know what it means to love someone of the same sex, whether that love is romantic, familial, spiritual, or the deep affection of friendship. We also know that throughout history people have tried to place boundaries around which kinds of love should be acknowledged, celebrated, or even spoken aloud. Yet the Bible itself contains remarkable examples of profound love between people of the same sex.

Scripture does not always tell us precisely how we should categorize these relationships according to our modern understanding of sexuality. We should therefore be careful about imposing modern labels upon people who lived thousands of years ago. But neither should we be afraid to recognize what the biblical text actually says: these people loved one another, sometimes with extraordinary intensity.

David and Jonathan are perhaps the clearest example.

When they first meet, Scripture tells us, “the soul of Jonathan was bound to the soul of David; Jonathan loved him as his own soul” (1 Samuel 18:1). Jonathan makes a covenant with David “because he loved him as his own soul” (1 Samuel 18:3). Later, when Saul seeks David’s life, Jonathan protects him despite the enormous personal cost. Their farewell is emotional: they kiss one another and weep together (1 Samuel 20:41).

And when Jonathan dies, David openly declares the depth of his grief and love.

People have debated for generations whether David and Jonathan’s relationship contained a romantic or sexual dimension. Scripture does not explicitly answer that question, and we do not need to settle it to appreciate what the story tells us about love. Whatever terminology we use, Jonathan loved David enough to risk his relationship with his father, surrender his own interests, protect David’s life, and remain faithful to him. David remembered Jonathan’s love as something wonderful.

There is tremendous power in such love.

We see something similarly beautiful between two women in the Book of Ruth.

After the deaths of their husbands, Naomi tells her daughters-in-law to return to their own families. Orpah eventually does, but Ruth refuses to leave Naomi. Her response has become one of the Bible’s most beloved declarations of devotion:

“Where you go, I will go;
Where you lodge, I will lodge;
Your people shall be my people,
And your God my God.”
—Ruth 1:16

These words are sometimes read at weddings because they express such complete devotion, although in their biblical setting they are spoken by one woman to another. Ruth chooses Naomi when she has every practical reason to leave. She chooses an uncertain future over abandoning someone she loves.

And this scene has continued to speak to people beyond the pages of Scripture. One of the most powerful moments in the film Fried Green Tomatoes comes when Ruth, seeking rescue from her abusive husband, sends this passage to Idgie. In the film, Ruth’s words are not merely a declaration of loyalty; they become a plea for help, a reaching out toward the person she trusts to save her. The biblical passage becomes a bridge between them—a way for Ruth to say what she needs when saying it directly may be too dangerous or difficult.

There is something deeply moving about that use of Scripture. Ruth’s words in the Bible express a refusal to abandon Naomi. In Fried Green Tomatoes, they become a message from one woman to another: I need you. I trust you. Please come for me. The passage carries both devotion and vulnerability, and Idgie understands what Ruth is asking.

Again, Scripture does not describe Ruth and Naomi as romantic partners. Their relationship is familial. But that does not diminish the love between them. If anything, it reminds us that love cannot be confined to a single category. Ruth’s devotion demonstrates that love can create family where circumstances have torn family apart.

The New Testament gives us other examples.

In the Gospels, we encounter the Roman centurion who comes to Jesus seeking healing for his servant. Matthew tells us that the servant is “dear to him” and suffering terribly (Matthew 8:5–13; compare Luke 7:1–10). Some have suggested that the relationship might have been romantic because of the language used and aspects of Roman culture. Others understand it simply as the relationship between a master and a highly valued servant. The biblical text does not tell us enough to determine the nature of their relationship.

What it does tell us is that the centurion cares deeply enough about another man to seek out Jesus on his behalf.

Jesus does not interrogate him about the nature of that love. Instead, Jesus responds to his faith and heals the man he loves.

Then there is one of the most intriguing relationships in the Gospel of John: Jesus and the man repeatedly identified simply as “the disciple whom Jesus loved.”

At the Last Supper, this disciple reclines beside Jesus (John 13:23). At the crucifixion, when many others have fled, he remains near the cross, and Jesus entrusts his mother to his care (John 19:26–27). When Mary Magdalene discovers the empty tomb, she runs to Peter and “the other disciple, whom Jesus loved” (John 20:2).

Again, we should not force a romantic interpretation onto a text that does not give us one. But we should not overlook its tenderness either. The Gospel is remarkably comfortable telling us that Jesus loved another man. There is no embarrassment in that language and no qualification attached to it.

That matters.

Jesus himself demonstrated that tenderness between men is not weakness. He loved openly. He wept. He embraced. He formed intimate friendships. He allowed another man to recline close beside him. He created relationships founded upon trust, loyalty, vulnerability, and love.

We see another form of same-sex love in Paul’s relationship with Timothy. Paul refers to Timothy as his “beloved and faithful child in the Lord” (1 Corinthians 4:17), and his letters reveal a relationship characterized by affection, mentorship, trust, and shared faith. Near the end of his life, Paul writes personally to Timothy, remembering his tears and longing to see him (2 Timothy 1:4). This is spiritual love—the love through which one generation nurtures another and faith becomes something shared rather than merely taught.

Taken together, these relationships remind us of something Christianity sometimes makes unnecessarily complicated:

Love is powerful because love comes from God.

Jonathan’s love protects.
David’s love remembers.
Ruth’s love remains.
Naomi’s love becomes family.
The centurion’s love seeks healing.
The beloved disciple’s love stays near the cross.
Jesus’s love entrusts and embraces.
Paul’s love teaches.
Timothy’s love carries the faith forward.

None of these relationships is identical to another. Some are friendships. Some are familial. Some are spiritual. Some resist easy categorization. But all demonstrate the extraordinary capacity human beings have to love another person of the same sex deeply, faithfully, and sacrificially.

For LGBTQ+ Christians, perhaps there is comfort in recognizing that we are not strangers to the biblical story. We know the power of these kinds of relationships because they are part of our lives too.

We know friendships that became family when biological families rejected us. We know older LGBTQ+ people who guided younger generations through difficult journeys. We know friends who sat beside hospital beds, stood beside us during grief, celebrated with us when life finally became joyful again, or simply refused to leave when everyone else seemed to disappear.

We know what it means to reach out to someone we trust when we are afraid. We know what it means to recognize a message hidden inside familiar words. We know that sometimes a passage of Scripture, a song, a letter, or a simple gesture can say what we cannot safely say aloud.

And yes, many of us know what it means to fall deeply and completely in love with someone of the same sex.

We should not need to turn David and Jonathan, Ruth and Naomi, or Jesus and the beloved disciple into modern same-sex couples to find ourselves within Scripture. Their stories already tell us something important: profound love between two men or between two women is not foreign to the Bible. Scripture preserves such love, celebrates its loyalty, records its tenderness, and allows its grief to be expressed openly.

David did not hide how much Jonathan meant to him. He proclaimed it:

“Greatly beloved were you to me;
Your love to me was wonderful.”

Perhaps those are words worth remembering.

The strength of love is not measured by whether everyone understands it. It is measured by its faithfulness, compassion, sacrifice, tenderness, and ability to transform lives.

Jesus tells us, “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you” (John 15:12). He does not command us merely to tolerate one another. He commands us to love.

And 1 John tells us why: “Beloved, let us love one another, because love is from God” (1 John 4:7).

Love is of God.

The love between friends. The love within families. The love between people who become family. The love of mentors and those they guide. The love that remains beside us when everyone else leaves. The love that risks something for another person. The love that reaches out for help. The love that grieves when someone is gone. And the love between two people who choose to share their lives with one another.

When that love is patient, faithful, compassionate, selfless, and life-giving, we should recognize its strength rather than fear it.

Jonathan loved David as his own soul. Ruth refused to abandon Naomi. A centurion sought healing for someone dear to him. Jesus loved the beloved disciple. Paul loved Timothy as a child.

Again and again, Scripture and the stories shaped by it remind us that some of the most powerful bonds in human life exist between people of the same sex.

For LGBTQ+ Christians who have sometimes been told that whom we love separates us from God, these stories offer another message. Love need not drive us away from God. Love can teach us something about God.

Because when we love another person faithfully, sacrificially, tenderly, and without shame, we catch a glimpse of the One from whom all genuine love ultimately comes.

“God is love.”—1 John 4:8