I remember during my undergrad, when I was considering a degree in Secondary Education, taking a class that went through the history of education. Largely, it was interesting. However, I admittedly struggled once we arrived at the late 1960s early 1970s time frame, when the issue of homosexuality took front and center in the social scene.
Listening to those lectures, it was obvious my professor and most of my classmates were in support of LGBT ideology. The lessons were coming from a place of, “We should not repeat this same oppression toward the LGBT crowd. We need to accept them.”
As a Christian, it was challenging to strike the right balance between being a good student and not allowing that indoctrination to frustrate me outwardly. I wanted to demonstrate love and compassion, but I also couldn’t help but think: “This is what my tuition is going toward?”
And yet, in the middle of one of the lectures, there was a shift in my perspective.
During a wave of irritation, the topic on one particular day was on the high rates of suicide, depression, anxiety, and abuse among those who identify as homosexual. And truly, the rates were high — it was sobering.
As I recall, my heart sank as I considered this reality: Being of the world means the world is all you have. I realized: Of course these people are more prone to hopelessness and despair, of course they are so passionate about getting the entire world to board their ideological train, because without the support of the world, what do they have?
That thought resonated with me throughout the class. It felt like a nudging from the Lord, as if He was telling me, “Hey, let Me teach you something during this lecture.” And He did. To my amazement, a class I entered in frustration, I left in praise, because my focus had shifted to something beautiful: my salvation.
I was overwhelmed with gratitude that I had a God on my side, and a God who was my only source of consolation. Psalm 27:1 echoed in my brain, “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?”
As Christians, we don’t need the world’s affirmation. We don’t need to be validated by our friends or family. The only opinion we need is that of the Lord, and Scripture says He is for us.
Should Christians remain in this battle?
Just a quick glance at Scripture reveals that, in Christ, our identity is that we are precious, loved, chosen, kept, guarded, guided, comforted, and strengthened by our Savior and King from now and into eternity. How glorious!
But that day in class, I was not merely reminded of and edified by this beautiful truth. I was also humbled by those who do not have such a Rock in their lives. I was stunned at the thought of not having such a God being my hope in life and death, my friend amid many foes.
It’s easy to get mad at the LGBT nonsense we’re seeing in schools, government, and seemingly everywhere in society. But how often do we get sad about it? How often do we grieve the fact that their choices, like all sin, are separating them from God’s good plan for their life?
How often do we consider that reality, and how often does it stir us up to show the greatest love we could ever show by sharing the truth with them? I fear that we, as a church, are more prone to distancing ourselves from the conversation in anger than we are prone to lovingly engaging in it on behalf of truth.
“I don’t want to cause even more tension,” some of us think. “They’re just going to reject what I have to say anyway,” others say. “Why should I talk to them when they certainly don’t want to talk to me?”
I could likely write an entire article listing out different excuses we use to stay silent. But that doesn’t alter the reality that silence is not loving. Backing away is not loving. Allowing anger to discourage us from preaching the gospel is both unloving and contrary to Scripture.
Beloved, they need our love. They need the truth.
For many, an LGBT identity feels like an escape from sorrows. I’m sure a lot of these people are convinced it’s good for them. For the lonely, the LGBT narrative offers a “loving, inclusive, non-judgmental community.” For the depressed, the LGBT narrative promises that “you’ll find your true self when you discover your true gender and sexuality.”
The LGBT narrative says, “Be whoever you want to be. Do whatever you need to do. This is the way to happiness, contentment, and a good life. We promise.” And so, once the narrative ropes in its next victim, they’re instructed to pursue their humble rite of passage into the community of “pride.”
When it comes to identifying as lesbian, gay, or bisexual, the rite of passage is simple: “Come out to your parents. Come out to your siblings and your friends. Come out at school and at work. Once you come out, then we will finally accept you, because you’ve proven to be one of us.” But with the issue of transgenderism, which has boomed in recent years, the rite of passage looks quite a bit different, with tremendously vast and grotesque consequences.
Rosaria Butterfield, a former LGBT activist who had identified as a lesbian, told the crowd of the 2024 Ligonier National Conference, “When I lived as a lesbian woman … coming out to your parents was a rite of passage. Well, the new … rite of passage is cutting off body parts.” In other words, “cutting off is the new coming out.”
It’s a sly strategy, Butterfield went onto say, and it’s shoved our younger generations on a “conveyor belt” of deception. Children, teenagers, and adults alike hop on and are dragged through a smokescreen of acceptance that results in a lifetime of gaslighting, victimization, and permanent mental and physical damage.
“We need to realize,” Butterfield urged, that we are “not going to help them by jumping on that conveyor belt with them.” Rather, she emphasized, they need honesty. “They genuinely need your sympathy, not your empathy. You need to stand outside of the problem and assemble a wide range of people to support you and pray for them.”
Consider how extreme this “movement” has become: It’s no longer simply about verbally proclaiming one’s self-identification. Now, adults and children are being pressured to take actions they cannot fully reverse.
In addition to the ideological brainwashing, there are a lot of people out there pushing for this rite of passage, this cutting off of healthy body parts, for financial gain. It’s hurting our children, institutions, and, really, all of society. It needs to be stopped, which makes it a battle one can simply never give up on.
Christian, share the gospel. Boldly proclaim the good news to everyone. And for people being hurt by these ideological lies, we need to come alongside them and inject truth into their lives. We can’t give up on them.
While they are searching for the world to validate them, let us be the people to share with them what it means to be truly free in Christ. When they’re told to seek affirmation from a fickle, chaotic, and destructive world, let us instead encourage them to look for it in the truth of Scripture, where they can be forgiven and free through the power of Christ’s resurrection, rooted in hope by the sustaining grace of the Holy Spirit, and deeply loved for eternity by the Father, God Almighty.
When cutting off becomes the new coming out, let us be the people to care so much about these prodigal souls that we refuse to let them go without a fight. Because ultimately, we know the world can offer no true affirmation. To truly live, we must be rooted in Christ — and He won’t turn His back on you.
This article appeared originally on The Washington Stand.
