Faith and Identity
Today, I’d like to talk about
faith and identity.
(I know. Deep breath.
But stay with me.)
And before I start,
I need to state that
my relationship with faith
has changed considerably
since my Catholic school days,
but I still understand
how deeply it shapes
many families’ lives.
And I’m here to tell you:
Faith and identity
don’t have to be enemies.
For many families,
faith is where values originate:
love, service,
kindness, and community.
All good things.
I also know faith
isn’t something you can just
“toss aside.”
Yet, sometimes parents
find themselves standing
in a painful place:
Loving their faith…
and loving their LGBTQ child…
and not knowing how to hold both
at the same time.
That’s not failure,
that’s tension.
And that tension has a name:
moral anxiety.
Moral anxiety is what happens
when your values clash;
when love for your child
feels like it’s fighting
with the beliefs you were taught.
And your nervous system
does not enjoy this experience.
It sounds like:
“What if I support my kid
and get this wrong?”
“What if loving them
feels like I’m failing spiritually?”
“What if there’s no way
to choose both?”
“What is my pastor or
the congregation going to think?
(Yes, the social layer makes it heavier.)
Moral anxiety doesn’t mean
you love your child less.
It means you’re trying to love
with integrity while continuing to grow.
And that growth can sometimes
feel a little sour.
Maybe even unsavory.
So let’s talk about
what really matters here:
Love for your child
does not require
abandoning faith.
It requires letting love lead it.
Not fear. Not shame.
Not appearances.
And to do that,
we have to understand
something important:
Identity is not rebellion.
Queer kids aren’t rebelling
when they come out
or ask questions.
They’re not trying to shock you.
For LGBTQ youth,
identity is simply truth-telling.
It’s saying:
“This is who I am.”
“This is how I move through the world.”
“This is who I love.”
There is no agenda or attack.
Just honesty.
And the most important
spiritual work a parent can do
isn’t solving theology.
It’s protecting
the parent-child relationship.
That relationship
IS THE MINISTRY.
Queer kids don’t need
final answers and
certainly don’t need a dissertation.
They need to know:
“I’m safe with you.”
“I won’t lose you.”
“You won’t choose belief over me.”
Even when it’s complicated.
In this space,
we practice holding faith
like a bridge, not a barrier.
We’re teaching that:
Love isn’t something to earn.
Belonging isn’t conditional.
And home should never feel
like the place where
you have to hide.
Especially not from the people
who love you most.
Because when parents lead with connection
(like a bridge),
something powerful happens:
Faith becomes a tool of love,
not a test of it.
And LGBTQ kids learn an essential truth:
They don’t have to leave their family
to be whole.
They don’t have to abandon spirituality
to be loved.
They don’t have to shrink themselves
to belong.
They get to exist fully.
That’s all for now.
And don’t forget to take good care of yourself today.