Unmoored

When I finally stood in my truth and spoke the words I had been suffocating on for years, I didn’t expect a standing ovation. But I also didn’t expect to be met with a wall of practiced, holy-sounding rejection.

“I don’t accept it.” “I don’t agree with your lifestyle.” “God’s design is one man and one woman.” “You cannot be a Christian and be gay.”

The words were hurled like stones, intended to bruise, to shame, and to bring me back to the dock where they felt comfortable. But as the echoes of their judgment filled the room, I began to look closer at the people throwing the stones.

The Glass House of Moral High Ground

The most terrifying part of coming out wasn’t my own identity—it was the blinding, suffocating hypocrisy of the “righteous.” I watched as people who had spent years hiding their own shadows—the chronic cheaters, the relentless gossips, those whose own relationships were rotting from lust and deceit—suddenly found the moral authority to tell me my heart was wrong.

They stood behind the shield of a faith they used as a weapon, judging a love they couldn’t understand while ignoring the chaos in their own lives. They spoke of “God’s design” while living lives that ignored every other tenet of the grace they claimed to follow. It was a performance of holiness, staged solely to make them feel superior at the cost of my peace.

For a long time, I let their “lack of acceptance” weigh me down. I felt I had to argue, to prove my worth, to convince them that I was still the same person I had always been. But eventually, a hard, cold clarity set in: It was never theirs to accept.

The Sovereignty of Your Own Life

My life is not a democracy. My identity is not up for debate, and it certainly isn’t a bill that needs to be passed by a committee of hypocrites.

I realized that their refusal to “be okay with it” had nothing to do with me and everything to do with their need for control. When you realize that your life doesn’t require a stamp of approval from people who can’t even fix their own brokenness, a different kind of freedom takes hold. You stop seeking a seat at a table where you aren’t wanted, and you realize you have the power to build your own.

Finding the Real Sanctuary

The hope in my story—the part that kept me from sinking—is that once I stopped trying to win over the people who were determined to misunderstand me, I finally saw the people who didn’t need to be convinced.

I found the ones who met my truth with a simple “I love you.” I found the friends and the chosen family who saw my soul instead of a “sin.” These are the people who accept me fully, not in spite of who I am, but because of it. They are the ones who understand that love isn’t about agreement—it’s about presence.

To anyone currently standing in the crosshairs of hypocrisy: They are not worth your effort. They are not worth your tears, your time, or your precious emotional energy. You do not owe them an explanation, and you certainly do not owe them your misery.

The world is much larger than the small, judgmental rooms we were raised in. There is a whole ocean of people waiting to love you exactly as you are. Don’t let the people anchored in their own bitterness keep you from finding them.