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Bear one another’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.
—Galatians 6:2
There are times in our lives when hope comes easily. We feel loved, appreciated, and confident that good things lie ahead. Then there are those times when hope seems almost impossible. We pray, we wait, we try to remain faithful, but the things our hearts long for seem perpetually beyond our reach. For many LGBTQ+ people, particularly those of us who grew up in religious traditions that taught us to question or condemn who we are, hope can be especially complicated.
We are often told to be patient, to trust God’s timing, and to believe that everything happens for a reason. Those words may be offered with good intentions, but they can ring hollow when spoken to someone who has spent years waiting to feel accepted, to find companionship, or simply to be loved without conditions. Sometimes, what we need most is not another reminder to be patient but the reassurance that our hopes and desires are neither shameful nor unworthy of God’s attention.
Psalm 37:4 tells us, “Take delight in the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart.” I do not believe this means that God grants every wish or that faithfulness guarantees we will receive everything we want. Life has taught me otherwise. Rather, I understand this verse as an invitation to recognize that our deepest longings can be part of our relationship with God. The desire to love and be loved, to share our lives with someone, to experience genuine companionship, and to live authentically should not be dismissed simply because those desires do not conform to someone else’s expectations.
For LGBTQ+ Christians, this distinction matters. Too often, we have been told that our love is something to resist rather than celebrate. We have heard that accepting ourselves means turning away from God. Yet I cannot reconcile that message with a God whose very nature is love. If we believe that human beings are created in God’s image, then surely we must recognize the dignity and worth of LGBTQ+ people as part of that creation. Our capacity to love is not something that separates us from God. It can be one of the ways we experience God’s presence.
Still, believing that we are worthy of love does not mean that love always comes when we want it. Psalm 27:14 encourages us, “Wait for the LORD; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the LORD!” Waiting, however, is not the same as surrendering to despair. Nor should it mean putting our lives on hold while hoping that someday everything will fall into place.
There is courage in continuing to live fully even when our hearts are waiting for something more. There is courage in remaining open to love after disappointment, in seeking friendship after rejection, and in believing that tomorrow might hold possibilities we cannot yet imagine. Faith does not eliminate uncertainty, but it can help us face that uncertainty without allowing it to define us.
And sometimes, the strength we need comes through other people.
Proverbs 15:23 reminds us, “A person finds joy in giving an apt reply—and how good is a timely word!” We may never know how much a simple expression of kindness can mean to someone who is struggling. For an LGBTQ+ teenager afraid to come out, hearing that God loves them exactly as they are can be life-changing. For someone rejected by their family or church, a sincere welcome can begin to heal wounds that have remained open for years. For someone who feels lonely or forgotten, a phone call, a conversation, or a few words of encouragement can make the difference between another day of despair and a renewed sense of hope.
Words matter. They can wound, but they can also heal. Unfortunately, many LGBTQ+ people know all too well how Scripture has been used as a weapon. Words that should communicate God’s love have instead been used to justify exclusion, shame, and rejection. That makes our responsibility to speak with compassion all the more important. We cannot undo every hurtful word someone has heard, but we can offer words that affirm their dignity and remind them they are not alone.
Paul takes this responsibility a step further in Galatians 6:2 when he instructs us to “Bear one another’s burdens.” Christianity was never intended to be a solitary journey. We are called to care for one another, not merely when doing so is convenient or comfortable, but especially when someone is struggling under a burden too heavy to carry alone.
For LGBTQ+ Christians and our allies, bearing one another’s burdens means more than offering sympathy. It means standing beside those who face discrimination, defending those whose dignity is denied, welcoming those who have been excluded, and refusing to remain silent when religion is used to justify cruelty. It means recognizing that another person’s suffering is not simply their problem but a call for us to put Christ’s teachings into action.
It also means allowing others to help carry our burdens. That can be difficult, especially for those of us who have learned to be self-reliant. We may convince ourselves that we should be strong enough to handle everything alone. Yet there is no weakness in admitting that we need companionship, encouragement, or someone who will simply listen. We were not created to live without human connection.
What strikes me about these four passages is how naturally they complement one another. Proverbs reminds us to offer encouragement. Psalm 37 reminds us that our hearts’ desires matter. Psalm 27 teaches us to remain courageous through uncertainty. Galatians calls us to turn that encouragement, hope, and courage into tangible acts of love.
Together, they remind us that hope is not merely something we wait to receive. It is also something we can give.
We cannot promise someone that their loneliness will end tomorrow, that their family will accept them, or that every injustice will be corrected in their lifetime. We cannot promise ourselves those things either. But we can refuse to let disappointment extinguish our compassion. We can create communities where people are welcomed without conditions, where love is celebrated rather than condemned, and where no one is expected to carry life’s burdens alone.
Perhaps that is one of the most meaningful ways we can live out our faith: by becoming the encouragement someone else needs while remaining open to receiving that same encouragement ourselves.
God’s love is not diminished by whom we love, nor is our worth determined by whether we have found someone to share our lives with. We are worthy of love now, in the midst of our waiting, our uncertainty, and our imperfect lives.
Reflection
What desire of your heart have you been afraid to acknowledge, perhaps because someone once told you it was wrong or unworthy? Have you allowed disappointment to convince you that hope is foolish? And who in your life might need a timely word of encouragement or someone willing to help carry their burdens?
This week, reach out to someone who may be struggling. Offer kindness without judgment, encouragement without empty promises, and companionship without conditions. And if you are the one who needs support, allow yourself the courage to ask for it.
Above all, remember that waiting for something good does not mean your life is incomplete today. Love is already present in the kindness we offer, the friendships we nurture, and the compassion we show. Sometimes, the very hope we are searching for begins when we become a source of hope for someone else.
