Lenten Lamenting - Queerphobia
March, 16, 2025
Scripture - Genesis 1:26-31
Then God said, “Let us make humans in our image, according to our likeness, and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over the cattle and over all the wild animals of the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth.”
So, God created humans in God’s image,
in the image of God, God created them;
male and female, God created them.
God blessed them, and God said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth.” God said, “See, I have given you every plant yielding seed that is upon the face of all the earth and every tree with seed in its fruit; you shall have them for food. And to every beast of the earth and to every bird of the air and to everything that creeps on the earth, everything that has the breath of life, I have given every green plant for food.” And it was so. God saw everything that they had made, and indeed, it was very good. And there was evening and there was morning, the sixth day.
Message
Friends, our scripture today is so familiar, so fundamental, that it can be easy to let the words wash over us without truly letting them sink in. I'm talking about the very foundation of our lives: the creation of humanity. Let’s not just read and listen to these words, let's allow them to challenge us.
In the beginning, God created humanity in their image. IN. THEIR. IMAGE!
Race, gender, gender expression, sexuality, disability, class…these are all human constructions. God holds none of these identities and so the image of God includes all identities, all people. God’s image rests not a select few, not a chosen race, not a particular gender – ALL of humanity. You, me, the person sitting next to you, the person across the aisle, the people joining us via live stream, from the first humans to every single one of us here today. God created us. And God didn't just create us and walk away. God looked upon this creation, these beings who bear the very stamp of the divine, and God declared them “very good.” Despite all our flaws, all our shortcomings, in God's eyes, we are fundamentally, intrinsically good.
And here's the thing, God's love isn't conditional. God blessed their creation and stayed with us. God stayed, even when humanity messed up, time-and-time-again.
When Cain, in a fit of rage and jealousy, murdered his own brother Abel, bringing violence and death into the world, God stayed.
When humanity, in its ambition, tried to build towers to reach the heavens, God stayed.
When humanity created cultures built on violence, oppression, and violation, God stayed.
When the thirst for power led to slavery, occupation, and injustice, God stayed.
Even when we murdered a radical prophet who preached love and justice, who was also God in human form, God stayed.
When humanity chased after false idols, making money, technology, and progress their gods, God stayed.
When humanity tried to define and confine God, dictating how people could worship, who they could love, and what they could call God, God stayed.
When humanity decided who was important and how gender could be defined, God stayed.
Even when humanity unleashed the destructive power of the atom, using it to kill one another, God stayed.
Because despite it all, we bear God’s image. And God saw that we were good.
Now, let's be real, church. Let's be honest with ourselves.
· Where in our sacred text, from Genesis to Revelation, does it say that God created some to be loved and others to be condemned?
· Where does it say that God created some to be embraced and others to be ostracized, pushed to the margins, made to feel like they don't belong?
· Where does it say that God created some to be celebrated and others to be shamed, humiliated, made to feel less than?
The truth is, it doesn't. It doesn't say that anywhere.
Yet, in its arrogance, the church, the very institution that is supposed to be the bearer of God's love, has dared to rewrite God's word. The church has twisted God's message of radical, all-encompassing love into a weapon of hate, a tool of division.
The church has often dared to condemn those of us who identify as LGBTQIA+, to deny us our rightful place in the kin-dom of God.
The church, the very place that should be a haven of safety and acceptance, has said:
“You are an abomination!”
“You are an affront to God!”
“You are not welcome here!”
In doing so, the church has not only harmed us, but has also blasphemed against the very image of God that resides within each and every one of us. Every single one. Queer, cisgender, and heterosexual.
Now, some of us might be tempted to distance ourselves from this. We might want to say, "No! That's not me. I'm an LGBTQIA+ Christian!" Or, "I'm not one of those Christians! Look at the church I attend! We're affirming!"
And that's good. But we can’t ignore the deep wound, the systemic injustice. We must lament this sin of Queerphobia, this sin of inhospitality, this sin of unwelcome.
Remember, lament is not just about feeling sad. It's a powerful act of acknowledging pain, of naming injustice, of creating space for healing.
We must mourn the countless lives that have been shattered, broken, and destroyed by Queerphobia.
We must mourn the murders, the suicides, the rejections, the violence, the discrimination, the daily indignities.
We must mourn the families torn apart, the communities divided, the souls crushed under the weight of prejudice and hate.
We must mourn the lost potential, the stifled creativity, the silenced voices, the gifts that have been denied to the world because of fear and ignorance.
But lament doesn't stop at mourning. It compels us to ask the hard questions
· Why have we allowed this hatred to fester and grow in our hearts, in our institutions, and in our society?
Why do we cling to outdated, harmful interpretations of scripture, interpretations that prioritize exclusion over love?
Why do we fear that which we do not understand, clinging to our comfort zones instead of embracing the beautiful diversity of God's creation?
Why do we prioritize our own comfort, our own biases, our own sense of "normal" over the well-being, the dignity, and the very lives of our siblings?
Why do we ignore the cries of pain, the pleas for acceptance, the desperate need for love that echoes through our communities?
Why do we allow our personal biases, our prejudices, to override the fundamental principles of love, compassion, and acceptance that lie at the heart of the Gospel?
Even in the midst of this lament, even as we confront the harsh reality of Queerphobia, we must still hold onto hope.
· We must hope for a future where ALL of God's children, without exception, are welcomed with open arms, where love triumphs over hate, where justice rolls down like a mighty river, washing away the stains of oppression.
We must hope for a church that truly embodies the affirming, radical, inclusive love of Christ, a church that is a beacon of hope, a refuge of safety, a source of strength for all those who are marginalized, for all those who are hurting, all those who are seeking a place to belong.
We must hope for a society where LGBTQIA+ people are not just tolerated, not just accepted, but celebrated for our unique contributions, our diverse gifts, and our vibrant presence in the rich tapestry of humanity.
But hope, my friends, is not passive. Hope is not just a feeling. Just like faith without works is dead, so too is hope without action a hollow promise, an empty gesture.
We must commit ourselves, actively and intentionally, to the work of dismantling Queerphobia in all its forms, wherever it rears its ugly head.
We must learn about the realities of LGBTQIA+ lives, our experiences, our struggles, our joys. We must challenge our own assumptions, our own biases, our own ignorance.
We must speak out against discriminatory policies and practices, in our churches, in our workplaces, in our communities, and in our government. We must advocate for equality, for justice, for fairness.
We must put our resources, our time, our energy behind organizations that are working to advance Queer rights, to provide support, to create change.
We must work to create safe, welcoming, affirming spaces for LGBTQIA+ people in our churches, in our homes, in our communities – spaces where we can be our authentic selves without fear of judgment or rejection.
We must be vigilant in speaking out against hate speech, bigotry, and violence directed at Queer people. We must be allies, advocates, and accomplices in the fight for justice.
We must use our voices, our votes, to support leaders who champion equality, who believe in justice, who are committed to creating a society where everyone is valued, celebrated, and respected.
We must create platforms for LGBTQIA+ people to share their stories, to express their truths, and to be heard and seen.
Above all else, we must love our Queer siblings unconditionally, with the same radical, boundless love that God has for each and every one of us.
My friends, this is not a call to tolerance or mere inclusion. Tolerance and inclusion imply simply putting up with someone. We are called to so much more. We are called to love, to embrace, to celebrate the beautiful diversity of God's creation. We are called to be agents of change, instruments of peace, and ambassadors of God's love.
Let us leave this place tonight not just with words of lament and hope, but with a fire in our hearts, a commitment in our souls, to build a world where God's image is honored in every single person, where love reigns supreme, and where justice prevails for all.
Amen.
(Preachers rarely stick 100% to their written text, so please note that the text and what I actually preached may differ a bit.)