Walking the Narrow Path

"Enter through the narrow gate, for the gate is wide and the road is easy that leads to destruction, and there are many who take it. For the gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it." 

— Matthew 7:13-14

For many LGBTQ+ people, living authentically can feel like walking a narrow path.

Some of us come to understand who we are at an early age. Others spend years, even decades, struggling to accept ourselves. Some never find the freedom to live openly at all. The path toward authenticity is often difficult, especially when society, family, or even the church tells us that who we are is somehow wrong.

The younger generations, fortunate as many are, may not fully understand the burdens carried by those who came before them. There was a time when loving someone of the same gender could lead to arrest. There was a time when LGBTQ+ people were classified as mentally ill. Then came the AIDS epidemic, bringing unimaginable grief and fear. Many people who were already marginalized found themselves blamed for their suffering. Rather than offering compassion, too many Christians offered condemnation.

Yet when I read the Gospels, I cannot imagine Jesus responding that way.

When I think about how Jesus would have responded during the AIDS crisis, I think of people like Ruth Coker Burks. While many turned away in fear, she chose compassion. She visited the sick, comforted the dying, buried those whose families would not claim them, and treated people with the dignity that every child of God deserves. As Christians, we believe that the Holy Spirit dwells within us, guiding us toward the love and compassion of God. In Ruth's life, that presence was evident. Filled with the Holy Spirit, she became an instrument of God's grace to people who had been abandoned by nearly everyone else. Through her hands, Christ touched those who were suffering. Through her words, Christ offered comfort. Through her presence, Christ reminded people that they were never abandoned by God.

The narrow path Jesus describes is not a path of exclusion. It is not a path of self-righteousness or judgment. It is the path of love, mercy, truth, and courage. For many LGBTQ+ Christians, walking that path means refusing to live in shame. It means trusting that God's love is greater than the voices that tell us we do not belong. It means following Christ even when doing so requires us to stand apart from popular opinion, religious prejudice, or political pressure.

For some LGBTQ+ people, the wider road would be easier. It would be easier to hide who we are. It would be easier to deny ourselves in order to gain acceptance from those who reject us. It would be easier to remain silent in the face of prejudice or to abandon our faith altogether after being wounded by the church. Yet the narrow path calls us to something greater. It calls us to live truthfully, to love courageously, and to trust that God walks beside us even when the journey is difficult.

But the narrow path is not meant to keep us hidden.

After teaching his followers about the way of God's kingdom, Jesus told them, "You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid" (Matthew 5:14).

For generations, LGBTQ+ people were told to remain invisible. We were told to hide our relationships, hide our identities, and hide our stories. Growing up in the South, that often meant becoming the family member no one talked about directly. You were the uncle who never married, a "confirmed bachelor," or perhaps you had a "roommate" to whom you seemed unusually devoted. Maybe you moved away to New Orleans, Atlanta, New York City, or somewhere like Vermont, where life felt a little safer and a little freer. The family might acknowledge your existence, but not your truth. You were welcome, so long as certain things remained unsaid.

Pride Month stands in direct opposition to that demand for silence. Visibility is not about seeking attention. It is about refusing to return to the shadows.

When critics ask, "Why do LGBTQ+ people have to be so visible?" they often fail to understand the history behind that visibility. Pride is not a declaration that we are better than anyone else. It is a declaration that we will no longer be ashamed of who God created us to be.

When we live openly and honestly, we become a light for others who are still struggling. We show young people that they are not alone. We show those living in fear that there is hope on the other side of shame. Like the city on a hill, our lives become visible reminders that authenticity and faith can coexist. Every time we choose truth over fear, compassion over judgment, and love over hatred, our light shines a little brighter.

And when we finally step into that light, we discover something remarkable.

The Apostle Paul writes, "So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God" (Ephesians 2:19).

Many LGBTQ+ Christians have spent years feeling like strangers in the church. We have sat in pews wondering whether there was truly a place for us. We have listened to sermons that made us feel unwelcome. We have questioned whether God could really love us as we are.

Paul's words answer those fears.

In Christ, we are not outsiders looking in through the window. We are not guests who are merely tolerated. We are citizens of God's kingdom and members of God's household. We belong.

The journey of faith for many LGBTQ+ Christians begins on a narrow path. It leads us out of fear and shame and into the light of authenticity. And there, standing openly in that light, we discover that we were never strangers to God at all. We were beloved members of God's family from the very beginning.

As you reflect on this passage, consider how you can walk the narrow path in your own life this week. Where are you being called to choose compassion over judgment, truth over fear, or love over silence? How can you be a light for someone who feels alone, rejected, or unseen?

Perhaps it is offering encouragement to someone who is struggling. Perhaps it is speaking up when others are treated unfairly. Perhaps it is simply living authentically and faithfully, allowing others to see that being LGBTQ+ and following Christ are not contradictory.

The example of Ruth Coker Burks reminds us that extraordinary acts of faith often begin with simple acts of kindness. The same Holy Spirit that guided her life dwells within all who seek to follow Christ. We may not all be called to do what she did, but we are all called to see the humanity in others, to offer compassion where there is suffering, and to remind people—through our words and actions—that they are loved.

This Pride Month, walk the narrow path with courage. Let your light shine. And remember that in Christ, you are no stranger. You are a beloved member of the household of God.

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Moment of Zen: Cooking

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The Death Glare 😾

It’s Friday, and my work-from-home week is almost over. I’ve enjoyed working from home, though some days are more productive than others. Then again, the same is true at the museum.

One advantage has been that I seem to have had fewer headaches this week. The absence of strong perfumes certainly helps. Another advantage is that I’ve been able to keep a closer eye on Isabella and her asthma. Some days she seems greatly improved, while on other days she doesn’t seem much different than she was before I took her to the veterinarian.

She’s also becoming more difficult to medicate. By the time I’m finished, she’s usually mad as fire at me. Thankfully, she forgives me after about 30 minutes to an hour and stops pouting. When Isabella is pouting, she does one of two things: she either hides or sits somewhere and gives me the death glare.

This morning she woke me at 4:00 a.m., as usual, for breakfast. I fed her and went back to bed. About 45 minutes later, she informed me that returning to sleep was not an option. This actually drives me crazier than being woken up for food. She wants me awake and in the living room, but then she curls up in her corner and goes back to sleep herself, where she’ll likely remain all morning.

Life with a cat. 🙄

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⛈️ Thunder in the Green Mountains 🏔️

In the nearly eleven years I’ve lived in Vermont, I can count on one hand the number of true thunderstorms I’ve experienced. I don’t have enough hairs left on my head to count the number of thunderstorms I experienced growing up in the South. Alabama and Mississippi would receive more thunderstorms in a month than Vermont gets in a year.

That’s not to say it doesn’t rain in Vermont. In fact, there is rain in the forecast for the next ten days. The difference is that most Vermont rain tends to be light and steady rather than the dramatic downpours and thunderstorms common in the South.

Vermont actually holds the title of the cloudiest state east of the Mississippi River, averaging only about 58 days of full sunshine each year. Burlington is often compared to Seattle for its lack of completely clear days. There’s a reason so many Vermonters take vitamin D supplements.

Last night, however, we had a genuine thunderstorm. The thunder was loud enough to wake me around 11 p.m., and the lightning lit up my apartment. It took until nearly midnight for the storm to calm down enough for me to fall back asleep.

Even though the storm disturbed my sleep and Isabella woke me too early this morning, I at least don’t have to go into work. The floor cleaners are taking longer than expected, and the museum will be closed for the rest of the week. It may even extend into next week. So, I’ll continue working from home for a while longer.

Have a great day!

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One More Day?

Today will be another work-from-home day. The crew cleaning and waxing the floors at the museum are taking longer than expected, so we get to work from home again today. I have plenty to keep me busy, including finishing a few projects and preparing for a group of several dozen elementary school students who are scheduled to visit the museum on Thursday for a scavenger hunt.

Secretly, I’m hoping the cleaners need one more day and I won’t have to deal with a museum full of children. But I don’t usually have that kind of luck. Just in case, I did warn the organizers that there was a small possibility we might still be closed, however unlikely that seems to be.

Either way, I’ll be ready for whatever tomorrow brings.

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