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. 

“What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?…For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

 — Romans 8:3, 38-39

As LGBTQ+ people of faith, we sometimes face rejection—whether from family, church, or society. We may wonder: Does God still love me? Am I truly welcome in God’s embrace? Romans 8:31-39 offers a resounding YES to those questions. Paul reminds us that if God is for us, nothing can stand against us—not condemnation, not judgment, not rejection. He goes even further, declaring that absolutely nothing—not hardship, persecution, fear, or even death—can separate us from the love of Christ.

God’s love is not conditional. It does not depend on how others see us or even how we sometimes see ourselves. It is steadfast, unshakable, and unwavering. Jesus’ sacrifice is proof that we are deeply cherished, exactly as we are. When we face discrimination or self-doubt, we can hold on to this truth: We are more than conquerors through Him who loves us. God’s love is not reserved for a select few—it is for everyone, including LGBTQ+ people. We are not excluded from the grace, purpose, and beauty of God’s plan.

How does knowing that nothing can separate you from God’s love change the way you see yourself and your place in the world? Just as we often struggle with whether God loves us, we also struggle with self-acceptance. Messages from the world—sometimes even from churches—may tell us that we are unworthy, sinful, or somehow “less than.” But Romans 8:31-39 assures us that nothing can separate us from God’s love. This means that not only does God love us fully, but God also calls us to love ourselves as divine creations.

Loving ourselves is not selfish or prideful—it is a reflection of the way God sees us. Jesus reminds us of this in Mark 12:31 when He teaches, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” If we are to love others well, we must first love ourselves. That means embracing our identity, our gifts, and our worth, knowing that God made no mistake in creating us exactly as we are.

In 1 Samuel 16:7, when Samuel was sent to anoint the next king, he assumed God would choose someone strong and mighty. “But the Lord said to Samuel, ‘Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.’” This reminds us that God’s love and purpose are not based on societal expectations, but on the truth of who we are. God chose David, saying, “People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”

In John 21:15-19, Peter had denied Jesus three times and he felt ashamed and unworthy. Yet, Jesus restored him, showing that our mistakes and struggles do not separate us from God’s love. This reminds us to extend grace to ourselves, knowing that we are always welcome in God’s presence. But what does this mean for us? We were created by God, and He created us with a different sexuality than the majority of the world. We have not denied Christ; we have just sought his love. So, what does John 21:15-19 mean for us today? It means that by loving ourselves in the light of God’s love we are embracing our identity as God’s beloved, without shame. We are peaking kindly to ourselves and rejecting negative self-talk. We are surrounding ourselves with love—people, communities, and messages that affirm our worth, and we are caring for ourselves spiritually, mentally, and physically.

I, therefore, the prisoner of the Lord, beseech you to walk worthy of the calling with which you were called, with all lowliness and gentleness, with longsuffering, bearing with one another in love, endeavoring to keep the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called in one hope of your calling; one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in you all.

– Ephesians 4:1-6

As LGBTQ+ Christians, we are often told—by the world and sometimes even by fellow believers—that we do not belong. Yet, Ephesians 4 reminds us of a powerful truth: we are called by God. Paul urges us to walk in a manner worthy of our calling, not as people seeking to prove our worth, but as those already embraced by the love of Christ.

Our calling is not rooted in what others say about us, but in what God has declared. Psalm 139:14 says, “I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; marvelous are Your works, and that my soul knows very well. Paul wrote in Romans 8:38-39, “For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Paul describes what it means to live out this calling: with humility, gentleness, patience, and love. As LGBTQ+ Christians, we know that walking in faith sometimes means facing rejection, misunderstanding, or even exclusion. Yet, God’s call is not to bitterness or isolation, but to unity in the Spirit.

This unity does not mean denying who we are or erasing our identity. Instead, it means recognizing that we belong in the body of Christ and striving to live in peace with others—even those who may not fully understand us. It means extending grace, even as we seek justice. If you have ever questioned your place in God’s family, hold fast to this truth: you are already included. Your identity and faith are not at odds; rather, they are both part of the beautiful diversity of God’s creation.

As we walk this journey, we should especially remember these three things. First, we are called by God – not by the approval of others, but by divine love. Second, we are part of one body – a church that is bigger than any human institution, And third, we are held by grace – in the Spirit who binds us together beyond all differences. May we walk in the fullness of our calling, knowing that in Christ, we are whole, loved, and never alone.