A young Christian woman spoke on a recent podcast about growing up same-sex attracted and Christian.

She described the many prayers in which she pleaded with God to heal her, to make her heterosexual. She recalled the crushing disappointment when God didn’t grant that request. She talks about finding a youth group where she made friends quickly, where the youth pastor remembered her name despite the large group size. But that pastor soon found out about her same-sex attraction.

When he asked her to meet with him, “My heart sank.” This youth group was the best part of her week, and she had been hoping she could just fly under the radar and keep enjoying the community.

But, “we ended up sitting down after church, and he said, ‘Hey, I just need you to know that you’re not alone. A lot of Christians struggle with same-sex attraction. And I’m really glad you’re here.’ And then he either gave me a hug or patted me on the back and then got up and left. And that was it.

“And that shocked me. It didn’t make me think that maybe he [believes homosexuality is okay]… he made that youth group a safe place, like all of a sudden, it was okay that I was there.”

Later on in the podcast, she returns to that story and adds, “I think if the first thing he would’ve said was, ‘Well, you know what our church believes and you know what I believe – what do you believe?’ …I think that would’ve put me in a situation – it would’ve made me feel like I was a theological issue to be dealt with, rather than a person to be in relationship with.”

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This isn’t a groundbreaking story, or an unusual one; it’s just a particularly well-spoken example of a particular experience of grace that has blessed many Christians wrestling with LGBTQ burdens. But we’ve heard it often enough to know that the way in which our spiritual leaders address LGBTQ matters, matters. The pastor in the story didn’t lead with correction—there were no attempts to challenge or verify this young lady’s personally held doctrine. In fact, he didn’t mention doctrine at all at that point in time.

Readers will have noticed by now that made. known. approaches these topics with a lot of gentleness and empathy. The truths about God’s beautiful design of gender and heterosexuality, and about our instruction as Christians to embrace and apply that design to our own lives, are not the first, second, or even third sentiment you’ll find on this website. That was an intentional decision, but it wasn’t an easy one.

We’re confessional Lutherans. We like answers, explanations, and expositions on the wondrous depths of wisdom found in Scriptures. Our theology is built on the Word and Sacraments – solid rocks that take precedence over the leanings of our easily swayed hearts and human reasoning. When we find ourselves accused or oppressed by the devil, the world, or our own sinful flesh, we plant our feet firmly on the truth.

So when we kept hearing stories like this young lady’s—and noted that the individuals telling the stories still consider themselves Christians and still see a future for themselves in orthodox Christianity—we had to consider that there may be wisdom in applying truth and doctrine differently when addressing matters that have caused so much pain for so many.

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For years, LGBTQ matters have consistently topped the list of reasons why young Americans are leaving church behind. But as Preston Sprinkle writes in People to be Loved: Why Homosexuality is Not Just an Issue, “Most people who are attracted to the same sex don’t end up leaving the church because they were told that same-sex behavior is wrong. They leave because they were dehumanized, ridiculed, and treated like an ‘other.’”

CFW Walther wrote that the Word of God is misused when “the Law is preached to those who are already in terror on account of their sins, or the Gospel to those who live securely in their sins.”

This principle of ministry is nothing new. Our pastors, teachers, and church leaders have been practicing it for a very long time. What may be new, though, is learning that many of those whom we previously thought fell under the “secure in their sin” category are in fact terrified and fearful. Folks who seemed to us to be defiant against God turned out to be deeply yearning for relief from their feelings of alienation and unworthiness.

Additionally, sometimes we simply didn’t know who was in the audience of our sermons, lectures, Bible studies, and youth groups. Sometimes we thought LGBTQ matters existed only outside our congregations, so we preached as if the folks in the pews only ever needed to be strengthened in their knowledge of truth in a media landscape that challenges their faith at every turn.

But in March 2024, a Gallup poll reported that 20% of Gen Z Americans identify as LGBTQ. Among Millennials, it’s about 10%. The average percentage across all generations is 7.6%.

Nevertheless, upon hearing similar statistics sometimes we cut our losses – as if to say, “Yes, odds are there may be seven or eight LGBTQ folks in church today, but the other 93 need to understand what’s right and true about our sexuality and gender, and we can’t afford for them to get the wrong idea.”

Many of them got the wrong idea, anyway – though not the one we were trying to avoid.

As a mom shared not long ago, for a long time she didn’t think much of it when her pastor preached law-heavy sermons about the evils of progressive LGBTQ ideas. But then her son came out as transgender, and the next time the topic came up and the gavel came down, she recalls thinking, “but now you’re talking about my son, who didn’t ask to be this way.” Her beliefs about God’s will for our bodies hadn’t changed. But she had seen just how much pain her son was in, and that he needed more encouragement than conviction. And, “I have to think there are others in our church who are dealing with LGBTQ matters similar to us.”

It’s not just the individual folks wrestling with LGBTQ burdens who are eager to hear a message of forgiveness, commitment, and hope from their leaders. Their friends and family want to know, too, that their loved one has a place in the body of believers. They want to know that their church will not recoil in disgust or indecision upon learning that one of their own is hurting badly and needs reassurance of their place in the family.

There’s much more to say, of course. Are we inadvertently affirming trendy ideology when we choose to start with empathy and grace and save truth for another conversation? Why does it feel wrong sometimes to hold back on the law’s rigor? Do we see Jesus ever make these judgment calls (or lack thereof, as it happens)?

Those questions will be addressed. But suffice it to say, for the moment, the law must be used very carefully, and with as much consideration for your audience as you can muster. And should anyone suppose otherwise, we firmly assert once again that loving empathy—taken by itself—is not the end goal of the conversational journey, but the path on which we walk towards a full and joyful embrace of the whole truth: Creation and Fall, Law and Gospel, Cross and Crown. Grace and Truth.

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels but do not have love, I have become a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and know all the mysteries and have all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away everything I own, and if I give up my body that I may be burned but do not have love, I gain nothing.
1 Corinthians 13:1-3