“I’m Not Sure How To Say This…”

Every week, I get emails or Zoom calls from pastors, parents, and friends trying to love their LGBTQ+ siblings. Sometimes they connect to our ministry cohort, sometimes they want to support a Chapter, and sometimes they just have questions. No matter the context, though, there is almost always a point in our conversation where they pause, fumble over their words and say one of the following:

• “I’m not sure if I’m allowed to ask this.”

• “I’m worried this will offend you.”

• “I’m not sure how to say this…”

Many of us have had this experience - maybe on either side of the table. As LGBTQ+ folks, we’re used to people asking us about our lives - sometimes in surprising detail, and varying degrees of kindness. It’s old news, in some ways - and in others ways, it’s been hurtful, tiring, and discouraging. I talk more about the LGBTQ+ experience in this post.

In this post, though, I want to talk to our straight friends (hi there!). See, having talked to so many of our heterosexual siblings, I’ve heard time and again your side of this experience. You’ve asked well-intentioned questions, and been surprised at the response. You’ve reached out to a friend for a conversation, only to be caught off guard by their anger.  Maybe you expected clarification but you got defensiveness. Maybe you said something offensive, without realizing the impact it’d have.

I believe there are better conversations we can have. Frankly, all of the work of Revoice is based on the belief that we can have better conversations. There are ways that friends, loved ones, and shepherds can walk alongside us in a way that honors us. There are ways you can know more about us with compassion, not anxiety. I want to be clear that I can’t speak for everyone in our community - we each have unique experiences, hurts, and sensitivities in these conversations. I do, though, have three suggestions that I believe will help significantly with many of your conversations.

1: Check Your Motivations

We’ll start our discussion with what is perhaps the hardest step, and also maybe the most important. We need to check our motives, because good conversation requires kind motivation. In Luke 6:45, Jesus says “the mouth speaks with the heart is full of,” (NIV). It’s vital to check in on your own heart before starting a sensitive conversation.

This can be challenging, because we all have our blind spots, but prayerfully examining your own feelings, desires, and motivations can lead to much better conversation. The motivation with which a question is asked can make a world of difference! Consider these two scenarios from my own life:

• After hearing my story and my commitment to celibacy due to my theology, an individual asked me about my sexual history. They wanted to know if I had kept my commitment to celibacy, and in what ways I struggled with lust. I was confused about the inquiry, due to lack of relationship, and quickly realized they were suspicious, and trying to catch me in sin. I left this interaction feeling accused and violated.

• When I began attending a new church, I asked the pastor to go to lunch to have a conversation about LGBTQ+ people. I wanted to get some clarity on our church’s stance. During that conversation, the pastor asked me a few questions about my commitment to celibacy, what that looked like, and the challenges to it. As we talked, the pastor expressed humility, and interest in my experience, and was honest that he would likely struggle with a similar commitment to celibacy in my position. He was trying, it was clear, to understand what challenged my commitment, so he could know how to support and pray for me. I left that conversation feeling respected and encouraged.

In both of these situations, the questions were similar - in fact, almost word-for-word, to my memory. Two primary differences in my experience were the level of relationship and the motivation behind the questions. In one situation, a near stranger took it upon themselves to find sin in my life - they approached me with suspicion, doubt, and accusation. In another, a pastor I knew, though barely, asked with humility so he could understand my experience and support me - he approached me with curiosity, compassion, and respect. 

If we are honest, sometimes we confront others because we are trying to resolve a tension in our own hearts. Many straight folks have approached me as a way to deal with their own discomfort, or perhaps to prove to themselves that they weren’t hateful or homophobic. Others have asked me questions to prove a point - a question might be asked, for instance, with an intended “lesson.”

There are, of course, honorable motivations for asking questions. We ask to understand our friend, so we may walk alongside them. We ask questions to clarify confusion, perhaps to resolve a tension we are feeling. We might also engage a conversation to make ourselves more clear - to be clear that we want to offer support, for instance.

Before you approach an LGBTQ+ friend to discuss their life, or ask about their experience, prayerfully ask yourself - what do I want out of this? Am I hoping they tell me what I want to hear? Am I trying to prove a point, and using them to make it?

2: Believe What We Say

I would love if this point weren’t needed, but unfortunately I find that it is. I once came out to an acquaintance from church, who had known me for several years. I spent about 10 minutes telling my story in detail, including intricacies about my decision to be celibate. At the end of the conversation, the acquaintance nodded, paused, and asked “be honest with me. Is your roommate your boyfriend?” I was struck by this question… it felt absurd, and to be honest, I felt powerless. Here I had just spent several minutes explaining my beliefs, my commitment to celibacy, and even the sorrow I sometimes felt about not dating. This question not only ignored much of what I had said, it verged on calling me a liar. Unfortunately, this was only one of these interactions.

One of the best ways you can honor the LGBTQ+ folks in your life is to believe what they say about themselves. There is a beautiful dignity that comes with being believed - it suggests that our voice matters to our community, and that they trust us to know ourselves.

I see this tension often with parents, particularly when young women in their 20’s come out to them. A parent might say “this is new, she’s never been like this,” in speaking of the daughter’s sexuality - but the daughter herself might have said to them clearly “I have felt this way for a long time.” For close relationships, particularly family members, it will be difficult, even painful, to hear and believe parts of someone’s story that conflict with our own experience. This may take several conversations to clarify. At the end of the day, though, effective conversation is impossible without the dignity of belief.

An aside here - many of us LGBTQ+ folks get asked the same questions over and over again, often by the same person. It is kind to ask yourself - have they shared this with me already? Why did I struggle to believe them?

Finally, we do not need to equate belief and agreement. I find that many relationships get lost in this tension, particularly when LGBTQ+ christians have often been exploring sexuality theology for years before their heterosexual friends do. You can believe that your friend is carefully discerning their sexuality, without necessarily agreeing with the decisions they are making. You can believe what I am saying about the decisions I am making, without agreeing with the decisions. 

3: Recognize The Weight of These Conversations

My three closest friends are youth pastors, just like I was for 10 years. We’ve spent the past decade calling each other for ministry tips. So when my buddy texted me “hey can I call you for 10 minutes about a ministry situation.” I didn’t think anything of it. It was a sunny afternoon, I was off work, but had time to help a friend.

Unfortunately, the conversation ended up being painful… my friend recounted a heavy situation in his own ministry, involved a gay man who was being mistreated by the church. We talked for 15 minutes, and I felt myself getting increasingly stressed and anxious. By the time we hung up, I was in tears.

To me friend this was a normal conversation requiring ministry help - to me it was a painful reminder that so many churches are not able to offer dignifying care to LGBTQ+ people. It was a reminder that even the churches i know and love, with leaders I know and love, were allowing harm to sexual minorities in their care. There was a weight to that conversation, and a cost, that my friend could not have expected.

This is a dynamic I see over and over - well-intentioned straight friends asking for conversations that cost their LGBTQ+ friends more than they realized. This can be confusing and frustrating, particularly when you’ve checked your motivations and know that you just want to understand so you can love your friend better.

You have to recognize that for the LGBTQ+ friends in your life, this isn’t a one time conversation. This is likely the fifth, tenth, twentieth time we’ve had a similar conversation. Dr. Twyla Baker coined the phrase “translation exhaustion” to describe the experience of indigenous communities, but made the point that it applies to other minority groups as well. 

To put it in our context, translation exhaustion is the long-term weariness of constantly having to explain ourselves, our beliefs, and our difficult experiences - often to people who don’t share those experiences (or, at times, to the people who caused the hardship). 

This doesn’t mean that you can’t ask questions - in fact, I’m confident this kind conversation is necessary for healthy relationships to flourish. There are kind ways to be sensitive to this cost and, as Paul said, to “carry each other’s burdens,” (Galatians 6:2, NIV). Knowing that these conversations and questions take a toll on your LGBTQ+ friends, neighbors, and loved ones, you can approach with sensitivity and humility.

You might try:

• Learning from online resources or LGBTQ+/SSA educators. Maybe your question can be answered by someone you are NOT in relationship with, who won’t be impacted by your questioning! Revoice has a fantastic resource library with past conference talks, so you can learn from our speakers. You can also find podcasts and Instagram accounts led by LGBTQ+ Christians. Even if your question can’t get answered in this way, your loved one will appreciate and respect that you invested your energy before asking them to invest theirs.

• Making a clear request. I’m usually very happy to make time and energy for a conversation - even a hard one - if I know it’s coming. Sometimes, though, we are caught off guard or surprised by a heavy conversation. See my example above - I eventually told my friend that he had to communicate when he had to discuss LGBTQ+ experience, vs other ministry experiences. That way, I could be ready for the emotional toll of the conversation. You might say to a friend “hey, i’d really like to understand more so I can walk with you - could you let me know when you’d have time and energy?” rather than just inviting them to lunch and bringing it up!

• Naming your intentions. Have to ask your kids a tough question? Want to talk to a friend but you’re worried how it might come across? Just say right up front what your intentions are, and how you want to engage. “I want to understand, and I love you a lot… I might say something wrong, and I’m sorry if I do.” “I want to be humble when I don’t understand something… if I say something hurtful, could you let me know?”

• Apologizing before you understand. This takes humility (thank God it’s a fruit of the Spirit!), but when a loved one shares that you said something hurtful, don’t make them explain themselves before you apologize, and don’t defend yourself! There will be time for understanding, and there will be time for explaining what you meant. First, apologize, and recognize that there was harm you didn’t mean to cause. Offer to clarify, and say that you’d like to understand more, when they are ready to share. This shows us you’re on our team, trying to get it right, and trying to love us well.

• Honoring limits. Your loved one might not have the energy to talk. They might ask you to read an article or listen to a podcast because it explains it better. Recognize that these limits help them care for themselves, and stay in connection to you! This is not a rejection of you - this is an invitation to carry with them this difficulty.

We’ll never get it all right… we all stumble, and thank God that “Love covers over a multitude of sins,” (1 Peter 4:8, NIV). This is a start to humbler, kinder conversation. This is a start to understanding and connection. The fruit of these efforts will be richer, sweeter conversations. I think you’ll be surprised at the connection this brings.

In the future we’ll discuss what to do when you’ve hurt a friend - how to recover well. For now, though, I hope you’ll engage prayerfully. I hope you’ll grow in love, and be blessed by your relationships with our LGBTQ+ siblings. And, yes, I hope you’ll have some hard conversations.