“I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness.” 

— Jeremiah 31:3

As gay men, each of us has faced moments of doubt, rejection, or even questioned your place in God’s plan. But the truth is this: God’s love for us is unwavering, unconditional, and everlasting. We were created in love, with a divine purpose, and nothing can change that.

We owe it to ourselves to embrace who we are. Ephesians 2:10 says, “For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” We are not mistakes. We are God’s masterpiece. The world may try to tell us otherwise, but the One who formed the universe also formed us—intentionally, beautifully, and with a purpose. Our identity, our love, and our hearts are not separate from our faith but are essential parts of who God made us to be.

We can overcome fear with faith. Joshua 1:9 says, “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” Living authentically takes courage. Whether you are fully out or still on that journey, know that God walks beside you every step of the way. When fears arise—fear of rejection, loneliness, or misunderstanding—remember that God’s presence is constant, and His love is stronger than any fear.

God demands that we love boldly and without shame. We are told in 1 Peter 4:8, “Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.” Love is at the core of who God is, and it is at the core of who we are. Whether it’s in friendships, family, or romantic relationships, our love is sacred and good. God does not condemn love that is rooted in kindness, commitment, and respect. Instead, He calls us to love deeply and without fear.

With God, we can stand in confidence. Philippians 4:13 says, “I can do all this through Him who gives me strength.” There is strength in being who we are. There is power in embracing our faith and our identity fully. God has given us everything you need to walk this journey with confidence, grace, and purpose. Ask yourself:  How have you seen God’s love in your journey of self-acceptance? What fears do you need to surrender to God? How can you love yourself and others more deeply today?

God is infinite love. “Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.” (1 John 4:8) We should thank God for creating us in His image. Our faith in God can help us walk in confidence, knowing that we are fully loved and fully accepted by God. He will strengthen our heart, guide our steps, and let our lives be a reflection of God’s love. 

“For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse.”

— Romans 1:20 (NIV)

I have never understood how someone could look around at the wonders of this world—the towering mountains, the delicate pattern of a snowflake, the mysterious depths of the oceans—and think, “Nothing but natural evolution is involved in the creation of all this beauty.” It seems impossible to me that all of this could be the result of mere happenstance. From the moment I was first aware of the world’s complexity and grandeur, I have believed that God’s hand was present in it all, guiding creation with care and intention.

I believe in evolution. There is ample evidence of it, and I do not believe the world is only four thousand years old, as strict creationists insist. Scientific discovery does not diminish my faith; instead, it enlarges my awe. To me, evolution is not a threat to God’s existence—it is a testament to His brilliance. A world that adapts, grows, and changes is far more magnificent than one that appeared rigid and finished. Creation was not a single act frozen in time, but a symphony, still unfolding under the quiet direction of a divine Composer.

And yet, my faith has not been without struggles. There have been seasons where I asked painful questions: Why, God?Why is there pain written into the bodies of newborns? Why are some born to suffer? Why was I given a body and a heart that do not always align with the world’s easy expectations? And perhaps most piercingly—why did You make me gay, when life would have been simpler, smoother, quieter if You had not?

In those moments of questioning, it would be easy to believe that creation was left adrift, as some philosophies suggest. During the Enlightenment, many embraced deism, a belief that God set the universe in motion like a master clockmaker and then stepped back, no longer involved in the daily unfolding of events. Many of the United States’ Founding Fathers were deists, believing that God could be known through nature and reason but doubting divine intervention in human affairs.

I understand the temptation of that view. And in part, I agree: I believe God set the laws of the universe into motion with extraordinary wisdom and creativity. Yet unlike the deists, I believe He still intervenes—not always, not predictably, but lovingly and purposefully. He has not abandoned His creation. He has not abandoned me.

When my heart wavers, I turn again to the promises written in Scripture. I cling to the words of Jeremiah 29:11: “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

I am not a mistake. You are not a mistake. We are part of a creation that, though marred by brokenness and mystery, still sings of a Creator whose fingerprints are everywhere. When I look inward, when I look outward, I see Him. His eternal power and divine nature have been clearly seen—from the beginning until now—and though I do not understand all His ways, I trust that His plan is full of hope, even when the path is hard.Today, may we open our eyes and see anew. slow down. Look closely. Listen carefully. Let the marvels of creation draw you nearer to the Creator. May we look upon the world, and even our own complicated selves, and recognize the divine artistry that we are part of in this universe. In doing so, we honor Him—and we fulfill a yearning that has been written into our souls since the beginning of time.

“Nothing can separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

—Romans 8:39

The days between the Crucifixion and Easter morning were dark, uncertain, and full of fear. The disciples had followed Jesus, trusted him, even left behind their old lives for him—and now he was gone. Executed as a criminal. Buried in a borrowed tomb. Their hopes were shattered. They locked themselves away in fear.

The morning of His Resurrection did not begin in joy—it began in silence, confusion, and fear. The tomb was empty. Jesus was gone. Mary wept, believing his body had been taken. The disciples, unsure of what to believe, hid behind locked doors. The world had shifted under their feet.

If you’ve ever lived in that in-between space—between grief and hope, rejection and love, silence and revelation—Easter is your story too.

The disciples would have known the words of Psalm 30:5: “Weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.” Yet in the shadow of the Crucifixion, their grief clouded their understanding. Though Jesus had spoken plainly of what was to come, sorrow and fear made it difficult for them to remember. In Luke 9:22, Jesus told them: “The Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests and the teachers of the law, and he must be killed and on the third day be raised to life.”

Many gay men, too, anticipate rejection when they come out—rejection from family, faith communities, or society. Jesus predicted that He would be rejected as well. He was misunderstood by many who expected the Messiah to be a political liberator, someone who would overthrow Roman rule. Yet Jesus accepted his fate, knowing that his rejection and death would lead to something greater. In John 2:19, He said: “Destroy this temple, and I will raise it again in three days.” Though the disciples did not grasp it at the time, Jesus was preparing them for the truth that death was not the end—that from what was broken, new life would rise. By holding on to our faith after our rejection, we will be reborn and risen because while others may have rejected us, God never will.

Many gay men of faith know what it is to feel locked out or hidden away. We’ve known fear. We’ve known doubt. We’ve been told, sometimes by the church itself, that we are not fully welcome in the places where love should flourish. But in the Resurrection, God does something unexpected and deeply personal: Christ returns, not to the powerful, but to the ones who are hurting, frightened, and unsure. And he calls them by name.

He speaks Mary’s name in the garden—and suddenly, her mourning becomes recognition. John 20:16 says, “Jesus said to her, ‘Mary.’ She turned toward him and cried out… ‘Teacher!’” She turns and knew: love had not left her.

John 20:19 says, “On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together, with the doors locked for fear… Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’” He appears to the disciples in their fear and breathes peace into the room. They do not reach out first—he comes to them.

John 20:25 tells us that Thomas doubted that Jesus had risen, “He said to them, ‘Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.’” And when Thomas cannot believe without proof, Jesus doesn’t shame him. Instead, a week later in John 20:27, Jesus went to Thomas and said, “Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.”

This is not the love of a distant or conditional Savior. This is a love that returns for you. A love that steps across fear, past doubt, and into locked rooms and wounded hearts. This is a Savior who speaks your name—not with judgment, but with tenderness.

No amount of uncertainty or fear can lock Christ out. His resurrection is not only about defeating death—it’s about restoring relationship. It’s about stepping into locked rooms, into quiet hearts, into hidden places, and saying, “Peace be with you.” It’s about transforming sorrow into joy.

You are not forgotten. You are not disqualified. You are not too late.

The Risen Christ sees you fully—your questions, your longings, your deepest self—and says: Peace be with you. Rejoice. I have called you by name. You are mine.

Are there places in your life where fear still holds the door closed? Have you heard Christ calling you by name—and if not, are you open to listening? What would it mean to let resurrection joy take root in your story? Christ knows what it is to be misunderstood, doubted, and abandoned. And yet, he rises not to condemn, but to comfort. He comes not to erase your wounds, but to show you his own—and in doing so, to show you that your story is safe with him. Whether you are weeping in the garden or hiding behind locked doors, he is near. He speaks your name. He breathes peace. And he turns your fear into joy.

Jesus was crucified to suffer for our sins, and He was risen from the dead to allow us to be reborn. On this Easter Sunday, remember what the angel told Mary in Matthew 28:6 when she discovered the empty tomb:

“HE HAS RISEN”

And he said to all, ”If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it.”

–Luke 9:23-24

These words of Jesus are both challenging and deeply comforting. He doesn’t invite us into an easy life or a shallow version of discipleship. He calls us into a life of daily surrender, of intentional self-denial, and of wholehearted following. Notice the word “daily.” This isn’t a one-time event or a mountaintop moment—it’s a consistent, everyday decision to lay down our own agendas, desires, and pride in order to walk in step with Christ. Matthew 16:25, a direct parallel to Luke 9:24, emphasizes the paradox of true life in surrender, saying, “For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.”

Jesus’ words here in Luke and Matthew are radical, and they are for everyone. When Jesus says in Luke, “If anyone would come after me…” there are no exceptions or footnotes. This invitation includes us, as we are—fully LGBTQ+, fully beloved, fully called. In Romans 8:38–39, Paul says, “For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” To know this should be a deeply comforting assurance that God’s love is unshakable—no matter what others say.

The “cross” we are called to bear is not merely a symbol of hardship—it represents a path of sacrificial love and obedience. Galatians 2:20 says, “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” In Jesus’ day, the cross was an instrument of death, and so this invitation is radical: to die and be reborn through baptism is to do so that we may truly live. 

For many LGBTQ+ Christians, the idea of “denying self” has been used wrongly, sometimes as a weapon. But Jesus isn’t calling us to deny who we are, who He created us to be.  God promises a personal, affirming promise that speaks to identity and belonging in Isaiah 43:1, “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.” He’s not asking us to deny our identity, our love, our truth. He’s asking us, like all His followers, to deny the parts of all our selves that pull us away from love, grace, and trust in Him—things like pride, fear, bitterness, or the temptation to conform to the world’s rejection.

In a world that urges us to seek our own happiness and preserve our own lives, Jesus turns that message upside down. True life, He says, comes through surrender. In Romans 12:1, Paul tells us, “I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.” Paradoxically, when we lose ourselves in Him—our rights, our plans, our self-will—we find a richer, eternal life in return. 

Taking up our cross may already be familiar. Perhaps you’ve carried the weight of being misunderstood by your church, judged by others, or even wrestling with God over your place in the Body of Christ, but in John 10:10, Jesus says, “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.” Here’s the beauty: Jesus sees the burdens we carry, and still, He calls us to follow Him, not in shame, but in freedom. The cross we carry daily isn’t about being less than; it’s about laying down everything that keeps us from fully knowing we are loved, chosen, and sent.

When we live openly in our identity and our faith, we’re not just losing our own life—we’re giving it away for something greater. Psalm 139:13–14 says, “For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully set apart. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.” We’re participating in Christ’s upside-down kingdom, where the last are first, the rejected are embraced, and the wounded become healers.

Good Friday, a reminder that Jesus took up the cross and was crucified for our sins, is just two weeks away. John 19:17-18 tells us that Jesus ”went out, bearing his own cross…they crucified him, and with him two others, one on either side, and Jesus between them.” Between now and Good Friday, Let us think about one way we’ve had to carry a “cross” because of our identity. Offer that experience to Jesus today—not to erase it, but to let Him transform it into something sacred. Whether it’s our time, pride, comfort, or control—lay it down and follow Him there. Then, reach out to someone else who may need to hear: You are loved, and you belong.

Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness but rather expose them. It is shameful even to mention what the disobedient do in secret. But everything exposed by the light becomes visible—and everything that is illuminated becomes a light. This is why it is said: “Wake up, sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.”

—Ephesians 5:11–14

In modern culture, particularly in political and conservative Christian circles, “woke” has been turned into a sneer. It’s often used to dismiss people who speak out against racism, inequality, or systemic sin—as if awakening to injustice were somehow un-Christian. But what if the word “woke,” in its deepest and truest sense, is exactly what Jesus calls us to be? To be “woke,” in its most honest and biblical sense, is to be spiritually and morally alert—to see clearly the truth of God, the dignity of others, and the brokenness of the world. To be woke is to be awake—to the suffering of others, to the call for justice, to our own sin, and to the movement of God in the world. It is spiritual awareness and moral alertness. It is, in fact, discipleship. Nowhere is this clearer than in the Beatitudes.

When Jesus began His Sermon on the Mount, He didn’t begin with commands—He began with blessings. The Beatitudes are not a checklist for moral perfection, but a radical reordering of what it means to live rightly in the eyes of God. In a world that often equates power with success, wealth with favor, and pride with strength, Jesus turns everything upside down.

In Matthew 5:3-12, Jesus said:

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me.
Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

To be “poor in spirit” is to recognize our need for God and to understand we don’t have all the answers. It means awakening to the reality that we are not self-sufficient. We need grace. We need justice. And we need each other. This is the doorway to the kingdom. Wokeness begins in humility. It’s the opposite of prideful self-righteousness. A woke Christian doesn’t pretend to be better than others—they acknowledge their need for grace and their responsibility to listen and learn.

To be spiritually awake is to feel deeply. We mourn for the brokenness in the world—for racial injustice, for poverty, for violence, for exploitation. We don’t harden our hearts or dismiss others’ pain. We weep with those who weep. And Jesus promises that those who mourn with compassion will be comforted. To mourn is to be moved—to cry out for what’s wrong and to long for what is right. God meets this mourning with comfort—and with purpose.

Meekness is not weakness—it’s strength and courage under control. Woke Christians don’t seek dominance but justice. They resist evil not with violence, but with faithfulness and love. The world may reward arrogance and cruelty, but God honors those who seek peace and equity with humility. To be woke is not to dominate or rage, but to stand firm in truth with gentleness and patience. Jesus says the earth belongs to such people, not to the proud or the violent.

Matthew 5:6 says, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be filled.” This is the heartbeat of a woke life: a deep hunger for righteousness—not just personal piety but justice for others. The Greek word dikaiosyne used here includes both righteousness and justice. This is not about personal morality alone; it’s about longing for the world to reflect God’s character: justice for the oppressed, care for the poor, healing for the hurting. To hunger for this is to desire the world to reflect God’s goodness—and Jesus promises we will be satisfied. To be “woke” is to refuse to be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters (Amos 5:24).

That bring us to the next of Jesus’s blessings, mercy. Mercy is love in action. It’s seeing the suffering of others and responding with empathy, not judgment. Woke Christians offer compassion to the marginalized—not because it’s popular, but because it reflects the very heart of God. Jesus never mocked the vulnerable; He moved toward them. Mercy is the practice of a woke heart. It is seeing someone else’s pain and stepping into it with compassion. It is forgiveness, care, and a refusal to dehumanize. The merciful understand that every soul bears God’s image—and they act accordingly.

Purity of heart means clarity of purpose. To be pure in heart is to see with clarity—to be free of deceit, manipulation, and divided motives. Woke Christians are not performative; they pursue justice not for applause, but out of conviction. They seek truth, even when it costs them. In doing so, they begin to see God—in the faces of the oppressed, in the work of reconciliation, and in the transformation of their own hearts. The woke Christian seeks integrity, transparency, and the truth, even when it’s uncomfortable. And in that clarity, we begin to see God in our world, in people, and in unexpected places.

Peacemaking is more than avoiding conflict—it’s creating wholeness. Peacemakers are those who do the hard work of reconciliation. They build bridges. They speak truth in love. They don’t settle for false peace or quiet injustice. Peacemakers carry the family resemblance of their Father in heaven. The world may call peacemakers divisive, but Jesus calls them His children. A woke faith works to heal what sin has broken. Wokeness is not just awareness—it’s action.

To live this way will cost us. Jesus warned that truly living these values would lead to persecution. Woke Christians will be misunderstood, resisted, and sometimes hated—not because they’re offensive, but because they are living out God’s upside-down kingdom. But Jesus says: stand firm. The kingdom is yours. When people mock “wokeness,” they often mock the very things Christ died for: truth, justice, mercy. To be faithful in the face of ridicule is to stand where Jesus stood—misunderstood, rejected, but faithful to the end.

How can Christians mock the woke and still claim Christ? It’s a serious question. How can Christians, who claim to follow the crucified and risen Jesus, hate those who mourn injustice, who pursue mercy, who hunger for justice? Proverbs 17:5 says, “Whoever mocks the poor shows contempt for their Maker,” and 1 John 4:20 tells us, “Whoever claims to love God yet hates a brother or sister is a liar.” To mock the “woke” is often to mock the ones Jesus blessed—to laugh at those advocating for the very people Jesus embraced. And when Christianity becomes more about defending comfort than confronting injustice, it has strayed far from the Gospel. Christ calls to wake up.

Ephesians 5:11–14 offers a final word, “Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them…Wake up, sleeper, rise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.” Being “woke,” in this light, is not a worldly insult—it’s a holy calling. Jesus doesn’t want sleepy disciples. He wants people who are awake, aware, and aligned with His kingdom vision. The Beatitudes are not abstract virtues; they are a blueprint for awakening. They teach us how to live in love, mercy, justice, humility, and hope. They challenge us to reject cruelty, hardness of heart, and the mockery of those doing the hard work of justice.

So let us not be ashamed to be called “woke.”
Let us wake up.
Let us rise.
Let us walk in the light—where Christ Himself leads.

To put it succinctly, a woke Christian is a Christlike Christian.

“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” 

— 2 Timothy 4:7 

There have been a few things that I have wished for most of my life. I want to find a man who will love me for who I am. I’ve always wanted to get married on the beach with both of us barefoot and wearing khaki linen pants and white linen shirts. I’ve wanted to have a job that I love that pays well and for my family to accept me for who I am. Those are probably all unrealistic dreams that will never come true, but one dream that might come true is for my tombstone to read “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.”—2 Timothy 4:7 because that is the way I have lived my life, not just because it’s my favorite Bible verse.

As LGBTQ+ individuals, we fight every day for equality. Even if you live in a country where there are no laws limiting your equality, we all wish for equality for the LGBTQ+ around the world. Our fight may not always be against people, family, religious leaders, the homophobic in society, or politicians who do not accept us, but it can also be against our own doubt, fear, rejection, and even internal struggles about who we are. Paul’s words in 2 Timothy 4:7 remind us that faith is a journey—a race we are called to run with endurance, courage, and conviction.

The simplest things can be our weapons in the fight for universal equality. First and foremost, we must vote for those who believe in equality for all and who do not exclude others because of race, religion, gender identity, sexual orientation, or other characteristics that people deem to separate into categories. Life as an LGBTQ+ person of faith can feel like a race filled with obstacles and can sometimes feel like a battle. The United States and many other countries around the world are fighting against a strong resurgence of fascism that wants to erase our freedoms. 

Many of us have fought to be seen, to be accepted, and to be loved for who we are. But remember, we do not have to fight alone. God fights for us. The battles we face—whether external or internal—do not define us. Our faith, resilience, and love do. Many of us have had to fight for our place in the world, for the right to love openly, to be our authentic selves, and to worship freely. These battles are not in vain. Each step we take in love, each act of kindness, and each moment of standing firm in who we are is part of our race of faith. Exodus 14:14 says, “The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.”

At times, the path may seem lonely, winding through rejection, misunderstanding, and the struggle for acceptance. But Paul’s words to Timothy remind us that faith is a journey—a race that we are called to run with perseverance, courage, and hope. Hebrews 12:1-2 tells us, “Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus.” Our lives are a unique and beautiful journey. No one else can run our race for us. God has called us to live authentically, to love boldly, and to keep our faith even when the road is tough. We must keep moving forward, knowing that our identity and faith are not at odds, but are part of the beautiful story God is writing in our lives.

There may be times when faith feels difficult—when church communities misunderstand, when family struggles arise, or when we wrestle with your own doubts. But faith is not about having all the answers. It is about trusting that God walks with us, even in uncertainty. Keeping the faith means holding onto the truth that God’s love for you is unshakable.Proverbs 3:5 advises us to “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.” God calls us to keep going, to hold onto the truth that we are beloved, cherished, and created in divine love. We are not running alone—Jesus runs beside us, strengthening us when we feel weary. The community of believers who affirm and uplift us are also part of our journey.  

Finishing the race does not mean that life is easy or that struggles disappear. It means that through it all, we have remained faithful—to God, to love, and to our true selves. When we stand at the finish line, we will see that every step mattered, every act of love changed the world, and that God was with us the entire way. Hopefully, those around us and love us will think, “He fought the good fight, he finished the race, he kept the faith.”

“Finally, be strong in the Lord and in His mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes.” 

— Ephesians 6:10-11

As LGBTQ+ people of faith, we often face struggles that test our confidence in God’s love and our own worth. Whether it’s rejection from loved ones, misunderstandings within faith communities, or the internal battle to fully embrace who we are, the journey can feel like a spiritual battlefield.

Paul’s words in Ephesians remind us that our strength does not come from human validation but from God’s mighty power. When we put on the “full armor of God,” we clothe ourselves in truth, righteousness, faith, and the assurance that we are beloved. This armor isn’t about fighting others—it’s about standing firm against the voices that try to convince us we are anything less than God’s beautifully made children.

The world may tell us we don’t belong, but God’s truth says otherwise. With His strength, we can reject fear and embrace courage. We can walk boldly in our identities, knowing that our faith and authenticity are not at odds, but rather, a testimony of God’s creative and inclusive love.

Where in your life do you need to put on the armor of God? How can you remind yourself today that you are deeply loved and divinely empowered? Remember that God strengthens us with His power. He helps us to stand firm in the truth that we are made in His image. He clothes us in faith and loves so that we may walk boldly in our identity, knowing that we belong to God.

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. 

– Romans 8:28

Life’s journey is often filled with joy and beauty, but it can also be marked by pain, rejection, and uncertainty. For many in the LGBTQ+ community, this path can feel especially lonely at times. Struggles with acceptance, identity, and faith may weigh heavily on your heart. But Romans 8:28 reminds us of a profound truth: God is always at work, shaping even our hardest moments into something beautiful.

You are not a mistake. You are not forgotten. You are not alone. Psalm 139:13-14 declares, “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” God lovingly and intentionally made you just as you are. His love for you is not conditional—it is unwavering, steady, and eternal.

Footprints

One night I dreamed a dream.
As I was walking along the beach with my Lord.
Across the dark sky flashed scenes from my life.
For each scene, I noticed two sets of footprints in the sand,
One belonging to me and one to my Lord.

After the last scene of my life flashed before me,
I looked back at the footprints in the sand.
I noticed that at many times along the path of my life,
especially at the very lowest and saddest times,
there was only one set of footprints.

This really troubled me, so I asked the Lord about it.
“Lord, you said once I decided to follow you,
You’d walk with me all the way.
But I noticed that during the saddest and most troublesome times of my life,
there was only one set of footprints.
I don’t understand why, when I needed You the most, You would leave me.”

He whispered, “My precious child, I love you and will never leave you
Never, ever, during your trials and testings.
When you saw only one set of footprints,
It was then that I carried you.”

This message of God’s presence and faithfulness is also reflected in the famous poem “Footprints.” The poem describes a person looking back on their life as a walk alongside God, represented by two sets of footprints in the sand. However, during life’s most difficult moments, only one set of footprints appears. The person asks God, “Why did You leave me when I needed You most?” But God responds with a powerful truth: “During your times of trial and suffering, when you saw only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.”

How often do we feel abandoned during life’s hardest moments? Yet, just as in the poem, God never leaves us. Isaiah 41:10 reminds us, “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” Even when you feel unseen, unheard, or misunderstood, God is carrying you. His love is the foundation that holds you up when everything else feels shaky.

As you continue on your journey, take comfort in knowing that God is not distant—He is right beside you. He has called you with purpose, and nothing can separate you from His love (Romans 8:38-39). When challenges come, remember that your life is a masterpiece in progress, and God is weaving every experience—both the joys and the struggles—into something beautiful.

If you ever feel weary or unsure of your place in the world, reflect on “Footprints.” Know that when you see only one set of footprints in your life, it is not because you have been abandoned, but because God is carrying you forward in love.

God always walking with us, even in the times we cannot feel Him. Sometimes, we may feel lost, but we must trust in His plan, knowing that He is working all things together for our good. When we feel alone, remember that God is carrying us. 

“This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.”

—Psalm 118:24

Mornings can be tough, especially when the world around us feels heavy. As gay men, many of us have faced rejection, loneliness, or struggles with self-acceptance. Some days, it’s easy to wake up feeling discouraged, wondering if things will ever truly get better, especially under the current administrations regime. But here’s the truth: Every day we wake up is a new opportunity—a fresh start filled with God’s love, grace, and purpose. The enemy would love nothing more than for us to wake up and immediately focus on what’s wrong—the hardships, the disappointments, the fears, especially the fears. But God calls us to something greater. Instead of dwelling on the negativity, what if we started each day by thanking God for another chance to experience His goodness?

Paul reminds us in Romans 12:2, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind.” This means that our outlook on life isn’t shaped by what happens to us, but by how we choose to see it. Even when things look bleak, we can renew our minds by focusing on God’s promises rather than our problems. One of the most beautiful reminders in Scripture comes from Lamentations 3:22-23, “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” No matter what happened yesterday—no matter the mistakes, the hurt, or the disappointment—God’s mercies are fresh each morning. He doesn’t hold our past against us. He meets us with grace and gives us the strength to keep going.

Before you even get out of bed, declare God’s truth over your life. Say, “I am loved. I am chosen. I have a purpose.” This affirmation reminds me of the movie, The Help.  It’s a look at life in Jackson, Mississippi back in the early 60’s when racial division and inequality were most evident in the lives of the citizens of that community. I’ve watched The Help several times, and I am sadly reminded of a time when so many people were marginalized and treated as if they were less-than-human.  I guess part of what saddens me is that much of the division and inequality between races remains still. We also see division and inequality today, especially with how politicians and churches treat transgender individual and other members of the LGBTQ+ community. In the movie, an African-American maid and nanny named Aibileen Clark, played by Viola Davis, helps to raise a young white girl named Mae Mobley, played by Eleanor Henry.  In her role as a nurturing care-giver, Aibileen attempts to speak encouragement, value and worth into the life of the young girl by having her repeat several phrases along with her.  “You is smart, you is kind, you is important.”  Similarly, we can tell ourselves “I am loved. I am chosen. I have a purpose.”

Be mindful of what you consume in the morning. Instead of doomscrolling or watching latest disasters on the news, start your day with some good music, read your Bible, say a prayer, or just take a long hot shower to rinse away all the negativity you might have woken up with that morning. Some days will still be hard. There will be moments when the weight of the world feels overwhelming. But even in those moments, remember: You are not alone. God sees you, He loves you, and He has plans for you. There are also people in your life who love you and care about you. There are people who make you happy, remember them. So today, no matter what you’re facing, take a deep breath and say: This is the day the Lord has made—I will rejoice and be glad in it! Thank the Lord for a new day and fresh mercies. When life feels overwhelming, God can help us focus on His goodness instead of our worries. We should fill our hearts with joy, our minds with peace, and our spirits with strength. No matter what comes our way, we can choose to trust in God and embrace this day with hope. Go forward today and everyday knowing you are deeply loved, and let that love be the reason you rise each morning with joy.