“But, ‘Let the one who boasts boast in the Lord.’ For it is not the one who commends himself who is approved, but the one whom the Lord commends.”

—2 Corinthians 10:17–18

Paul reminds us that real approval does not come from boasting about ourselves but from living a life that reflects God’s love. In today’s world, however, it often feels like those who shout the loudest about their own greatness get the most attention. Some leaders demand constant praise and belittle those who refuse to glorify them. But as Christians, we are called to a different way—the way of humility, service, and compassion.

That kind of leadership is not new. Scripture repeatedly warns us against arrogance and pride. “When pride comes, then comes disgrace; but wisdom is with the humble” (Proverbs 11:2). The one who exalts himself may enjoy temporary power, but it does not last. Self-glorification is hollow because it centers on greed, fear, and division—not on God.

By contrast, there are leaders—both within and outside the church—who live out their faith not by proclaiming themselves righteous but by working for justice. They may not wear religion on their sleeves, but they defend the vulnerable, extend compassion to the marginalized, and recognize the inherent dignity of all God’s children. “What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?” (Micah 6:8).

President Jimmy Carter’s life of service—building homes for the poor, advocating for peace, and living humbly even after holding the highest office—is a sermon in itself. President Joe Biden often speaks of drawing strength from Scripture and has spoken openly about leaning on faith through personal tragedy. Whether or not one agrees with every policy, there is a recognizable humility in such leaders—a willingness to see others, to work for justice, and to help the vulnerable.

For LGBTQ+ people of faith, this passage speaks directly to our lived reality. Too often, we hear leaders who boast of their own “faithfulness” while working tirelessly to take away our rights, deny our families dignity, or paint us as enemies of God. They boast in their own power, but their actions betray the spirit of Christ. “If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal” (1 Corinthians 13:1). Words without love are just noise.

Right now, the difference could not be clearer:

Some leaders use fear, scapegoating, and exclusion to divide.

Others seek to protect rights, feed the hungry, and extend a hand of welcome.

As LGBTQ+ Christians, we know what it means to be on the margins. But we also know what it means to encounter Christ’s love in unexpected places—in a chosen family that embraces us, in a church that opens its doors instead of closing them, in the simple kindness of a stranger who affirms our worth. These are glimpses of God’s kingdom.

Glorifying the Lord is not found in loud proclamations of greatness or in parading one’s faith as a weapon. It is found in compassion lived out, in justice pursued, in love made visible. Jesus said, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (John 13:35). That is the measure—not who shouts the loudest, but who loves the most.

• When we advocate for the oppressed, we glorify God.
• When we refuse to return hate with hate, we glorify God.
• When we love boldly as LGBTQ+ people of faith—without shame and without fear—we glorify God.

This is our call to action: to live as people of hope in a world often bent on fear, to shine love where others spread hate, and to trust that God’s approval matters far more than the world’s applause.

Yesterday was a rough day. Something had me extremely drowsy. I woke up, fed Isabella, and when I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer, I went back to bed. Later, I managed to write yesterday’s post and get ready for work, but I was still so out of it that I nearly fell asleep in the shower. At that point, I realized it wasn’t safe for me to drive. I texted my boss to let her know I was having some issues—balance and nausea, which were also true—and went back to bed.

When I woke up again, I felt a little better. My back and leg weren’t bothering me as much, and I wasn’t quite as drowsy, though the nausea lingered. Once I got to work, I was too busy to focus on how tired I felt, but the nausea stuck with me all day. I finally managed to eat a little dinner before heading to bed early, waiting for the dark to settle in.

This morning I woke up with a headache and lingering nausea, though I did manage some coffee and breakfast. I sort of slept well, but Isabella was agitated all night. She woke me at 10:30 for an unusual snuggle—curling up on my chest while I petted her until we both drifted off. Then she woke me again at 12:30, 1:30, 2:30, and 4:00. I got up a few times to check on things—my blood sugar (since she has woken me before when I was hypoglycemic), her food and water, even just walking around the apartment. She had plenty of water, but I topped it off anyway. I never did figure out what was bothering her.

I’ll be glad to get home after work today. If I’m still feeling rough by lunchtime, I may just call it and come home. I’m looking forward to a restful weekend, though I do have an event to work tomorrow night. Thankfully, it’s not long, and I’ll be with some people I truly enjoy working with.

Wishing you all a great Friday and a wonderful weekend ahead!

Yesterday was a rough day. I actually expect the same today—not for the same reasons (at least I hope not)—but because I have an event to attend that usually requires standing for long periods and sitting in those uncomfortable folding chairs. With my back, I can’t stand too long and I certainly can’t sit in the wrong kind of chair for very long either. The event is scheduled for three hours, though I suspect we’ll only be there an hour and a half or two. Still, even that feels daunting.

What made yesterday difficult was having to go down into the basement to pull some objects for this event. My boss and I have already discussed my difficulty with stairs, and I’d been told to ask a particular person for help. When I did, that person went to my supervisor to complain—and instead of backing me up, my supervisor somewhat chastised me for even asking. Thankfully, someone outside of my department offered to help, which made all the difference.

I think today will work out fine, but I know my back and leg will pay for it later. After standing longer than usual yesterday, I already paid the price last night with extra pain. Still, I’m holding onto hope that each day brings a little more strength, a little more resilience, and maybe—just maybe—a little less pain.