Our broader culture is saturated with an almost endless stream of messages such as “you do you,” “follow your feelings,” “do whatever makes you happy” and “live your most authentic life” — representing a uniquely internally focused form of individualism.
It’s perhaps not surprising that both young and old often find these messages more immediately appealing than an invitation to be transformed — to learn, repent and grow into a more glorious version of ourselves.
As a result, many people navigating sexual or gender minority experiences are stepping away from their faith community in pursuit of a life beyond previous boundaries. Even when that brave new world brings unexpected grief or heartache, gospel discipleship may still feel, to them, like anything but a compelling alternative.
As Wesley Hill, a gay evangelical writer, has said, sexual and gender minorities need “a vocation of ‘yes’” — with vocation referring to a sense of calling or mission that positively guides our lives.
Eve Tushnet, a gay Catholic writer, put it this way: “Right now gay teens hear a robust ‘Yes!’ from the mainstream media and gay culture.” Too often from their faith communities, she went on to say, they primarily hear a “no” — going on to explain how they struggle to imagine a life centered around “not-gay-marrying and not-having-sex” (we might add “not transitioning” or “not identifying”).
For sexual and gender minorities to thrive in our faith communities, it is crucial to focus on what we are living for rather than what we are avoiding.
Living a story of ‘no’
Sexual and gender minorities often experience a profound sense of alienation and loss, starting with an early awareness of being “different,” which can lead to feelings of questions about belonging. The accompanying shame can be crippling, resulting in persistent feelings of inadequacy and loss and a sense of being “other,” “wrong” or “bad.”
From this place, it can be easy to perceive religious teachings about same-sex attraction or gender dysphoria as centering around a limiting narrative of “no” — focused on what we can’t have or do, rather than on what we can have, do and be.
Additionally, any focus on marriage and family — especially when tied almost exclusively to romance, sexuality and marriage — can leave some feeling a sense of futility about their life if they struggle to see themselves experiencing marriage and family in the future.
Some take away a false and harmful belief that life without marriage and children will inevitably be void of true love, intimacy, connection and belonging.
Living from a place of ‘yes’
For sexual and gender minorities to thrive in our faith communities, it is crucial to focus on what we are living for rather than what we are avoiding.
In the case of those navigating gender incongruence, for instance, while many church policies allow full participation for those who do not transition, it can be easy for the individual to hear only a language of restriction, focused on what cannot be chosen, rather than on the abundance of what can be embraced in following Christ.
To truly thrive, we need a life-giving story that fills our experiences with meaning. People are also far more capable of enduring difficult things when they experience them as meaningful.
I believe that The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints teaches one of the most beautiful theologies in the world — one that, at its core, has the potential to offer immense hope and positivity, even as we navigate life’s complexities.
As such, the restored gospel of Jesus Christ has the potential to provide one of the most powerful and expansive “yeses” imaginable in its story of divine progression for human beings with an eternal heritage and destiny.
But unless we articulate that vision in a way that offers a bigger, more compelling “yes” than those offered by popular media and culture, it will be difficult for the young (and old) to turn away from the loud “yeses” of American culture.
Whatever other elements it includes, that “yes” is always co-authored and cocreated in partnership with God — the one who may ultimately be the only one who can guide us personally to a “yes!” that is truly sustainable, life-giving and soul-nourishing within the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Theology must also intersect with the actual terrain people are navigating. As disciples of Christ, we can learn how to pair integrity with empathy — truth with grace — so that the gospel can be heard not merely as a call to conformity but as an invitation into healing, belonging and transformation.
‘The most love in town’
Rebecca McLaughlin, a Christian scholar who has written about her experiences with same-sex attraction, challenges the cultural notion that “the only real love worth having is a sexually romantic bond.” She asserts, “As Christians, we should have the most love in town … If someone leaves a same-sex sexual relationship to become a Christian, they should find more love here, not less.”
That’s not always what sexual and gender minorities find in their different faith communities. McLaughlin expressed hope that this kind of standout love will “become increasingly real in our churches,” saying, “We need to get serious about brotherly and sisterly love within the family of God, within the body of Christ.”
One of my most cherished convictions is the belief that all people are children of God in a “full and complete sense,” as one church essay summarizes, with “every person divine in origin, nature, and potential.”
“Each possesses seeds of divinity and must choose whether to live in harmony or tension with that divinity,” the essay continues.
I believe that people of faith can offer a much bigger and more profound “yes!” than the one offered by mainstream media and LGBTQ+ culture. Sexual and gender minorities especially need to know what we’re living for — and that “yes” needs to be bigger than anything we might be saying “no” to.
Competing ‘grand stories’
There is a rich opportunity to draw upon the teachings of Jesus Christ and God’s grander story of eternity as a resource for sexual and gender minorities and a wellspring for understanding and finding meaning.
But until a grander alternative is experienced as offering equal or greater power and appeal, people will understandably continue to be drawn to LGBTQ-affirming advocacy efforts or those trying to understand and integrate their experiences. These affirming communities speak powerfully to core needs of meaning, identity, intimacy and belonging. Even many well-meaning Latter-day Saint ministries have adopted these secular narratives and added a little orthodox linguistic and cultural flavoring.
There was a time in my life when I myself was conflicted by these competing narratives. Pulled in both directions, it was finally a transformative spiritual experience that led me to take more seriously what the gospel could offer me. At the time, all I knew was that I was choosing to trust in God’s vision for me, believing it was bigger — and hopefully better — than my own.
Saying yes, saying no
So, ask yourself: What is the yes that God is calling me to? What is big enough, beautiful enough and true enough to capture my heart?
Of course, saying “yes” to one thing automatically requires saying “no” to many others. As Stephen Covey once wrote, “You have to decide what your highest priorities are and have the courage — pleasantly, smilingly, nonapologetically, to say ‘no’ to other things. And the way you do that is by having a bigger ‘yes’ burning inside.’”
Even with a clear and confident “yes,” there will still be grief for the things we release. Yet in my experience working with many people navigating this terrain, this can be a kind of sacred grief — a holy mourning that allows our souls to process loss and to detach from desires that might otherwise hold us back.
Sometimes, this very grief becomes the path through which our larger “yes” is actually revealed. In a profound way, the things we experience as loss can become the very means of deepening intimacy with God. The pain of unmet longing, if embraced rather than numbed, can drive us to seek divine love with greater urgency, opening us to God’s healing presence even more.
From grief to joy
I remember feeling this grief at that earlier time in my life — when the hole in my heart felt like it would never heal. I was angry and sad in my then-belief that I would never have what a part of me so painfully desired. With a pain that felt overwhelming, I looked toward my church’s upcoming general conference for balm, writing down some of my most heartfelt questions.
As the Saturday afternoon session began in 2004, as soon as the opening prayer was offered, I felt the Spirit envelop me, and I experienced something unlike anything I had ever experienced. For nearly two hours, all the hurt, confusion, frustration and pain were completely swallowed up in a profound feeling of divine love.
In addition to feeling God’s love for me, the Spirit allowed me to feel a future love I believe we will all share with one another as we come to experience an infinite capacity for intimacy and oneness. I also came away understanding that this was the same kind of love and intimacy I would one day feel for a woman with whom I would be united in the most holy, connected and unifying way.
That small glimpse of an exquisite future was beyond anything I imagined any relationship could be. As I sat enveloped in the Spirit, I heard these words: “Stay with me. If you do, this feeling of Celestial love is what you will someday experience, and it will become a permanent part of your being.”
As the conference session drew to a close, the feeling lifted. I was left feeling in awe of the beauty of this transcendent experience. I didn’t know how I would grow into this love as an integral part of my being, but I knew I wanted more than anything for God to teach me how to love like that — to become that love.
Learning to embody that love has become one of my most central and sacred “yeses.” Living from a place of “yes” does not eliminate sacrifice; once again, it sanctifies it. But as I’ve seen in my own life, as we grieve what we have not chosen, we also discover joy in what we have chosen.
And that joy can be sweeter than anything we could have previously imagined.