God’s love is not up for argument and neither is my humanity. It’s time we focus on the real issues harming our communities instead of weaponizing scripture.
As Pride Month begins, so do the familiar conversations about what is and isn’t a sin. The same recycled debates. The same selective outrage. The same relentless expectation that queer people must defend their existence, prove their humanity, justify their love, and explain a relationship with God that does not require anyone else’s approval.
But as a unique PK, a preacher’s kid, let me state this clearly and intentionally: God still loves me.
God loves me for who I am.
God loves me in what I choose to wear.
God loves me in the fullness of how I show up.
God loves me in who I choose to love.
That is not confusion. That is not rebellion. That is not something I need to crowdsource from people committed to misunderstanding me. That is what I know.
I am not here to go back and forth with anybody about the Bible. I have had those conversations for years, even with my own father. I have sat through scripture wars, heard the sermons, the condemnations, and existed at the intersection of faith and identity for a long time.
At this point in my life, I am not debating my existence, my identity, my love, or my relationship with God. The absolute core of my faith remains unshaken: God is love.
A Misplaced Focus
What we really need to talk about is not people simply living their lives. What we need to talk about is how God has been weaponized to cause harm in our families, our churches, our communities, and society as a whole. This is the conversation I want to have.
We have watched people use scripture as a sword instead of a source of healing. We have watched people obsess over who someone loves, all while actively ignoring the broken systems that are making it hard for all of us to survive.
We have watched people debate Pride Month louder than they debate poverty, injustice, homelessness, the lack of healthcare, violence, and abuse. Where is that same moral urgency when families cannot afford a safe place to live?
Where is that same fire when people are being crushed by medical debt, denied healthcare, surviving abuse, navigating homelessness, or buried beneath poverty and injustice?
Where is that same volume when violence is tearing through homes, schools, neighborhoods, and communities?
Where is that same concern when people are suffering in ways that are not theoretical, but painfully real… an empty refrigerator, an eviction notice, a denied claim, a child who does not feel safe, or a family simply trying to survive another day?
If our outrage is only loud when people are living in their truth, but quiet when people are living in crisis, then we need to ask who taught us to call that morality.
These are the real issues hurting our communities. That is the conversation I want to have. The moral panic over LGBTQ+ existence is a distraction from the deep, systemic wounds that faith communities should be working to heal.
To the people who may say, “Don’t conflate these issues,” I hear you. But I’m not saying these issues are the same. I’m asking why some people seem to have endless energy to debate queer people’s lives, love, bodies, clothing, and faith, but suddenly become church mouse quiet when the conversation shifts to poverty, housing, healthcare, abuse, violence, and injustice.
Living in the Light
I refuse to let the noise diminish my spiritual foundation. Because I know God loves me. I know God sees me. I know God has kept me through it all. And I know, with total certainty, that no person’s limited interpretation of love can ever separate me from the God who created me.
So no, I am not arguing about my life this Pride Month.
I’m living it.
I am living it with clarity.
I am living it with faith.
I am living it unapologetically.
I am living it with the kind of freedom that comes from no longer handing strangers access to the parts of me God has already claimed.
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