Seen in the Stranger

“For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me… Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these… you did it to me.”

— Matthew 25:35–40

There are many of us who have heard, in one form or another, that we do not belong. That who we are—whom we love, how we live—is somehow incompatible with faith. Some have been told this gently, others harshly. Some have simply felt it in the silence of a church that never quite made space for them.

And yet, here is Jesus.

Not drawing lines. Not building walls. Not asking about doctrine, identity, or worthiness.

Instead, he gives us something radically simple—and profoundly challenging.

Feed the hungry.
Welcome the stranger.
Clothe the naked.
Care for the sick.
Visit the forgotten.

This is the measure he names.

In Matthew 25, Jesus does not say, “You recognized me because you believed correctly.” He says, “You recognized me because you loved.”

That truth matters—especially for those who have been pushed to the margins.

Because it means this: even if a church rejects you, Christ does not disappear. Christ is still present in the world—in the people who need compassion, dignity, and care. And when we meet those needs, we are not just doing good deeds. We are encountering Christ himself.

There is something deeply freeing in that.

It means your faith is not confined to a building that may not welcome you.
It is not dependent on the approval of others.
It is not measured by how well you fit someone else’s expectations.

Your faith is lived in action—in kindness, in justice, in mercy.

Every time you show compassion, you are walking in the footsteps of Jesus.
Every time you choose love over bitterness, you are reflecting his heart.
Every time you welcome someone who feels like an outsider, you are doing exactly what he asked.

And perhaps most importantly: in those moments, you may find that Christ is not only present in the person you serve—but present with you, too.

For many LGBTQ+ Christians, the question has long been: Where do I belong?

Jesus offers an unexpected answer.

You belong wherever love is lived.

You belong wherever the hungry are fed and the lonely are seen.

You belong wherever mercy is practiced.

You belong wherever Christ is found—in the least, the last, and the overlooked.

And in doing these things, you are not just following Jesus.

You are meeting him.