Our nation is in crisis, and our people are in pain. And in Texas, that pain is not abstract; it has been written into law, argued in courtrooms, erased from our crosswalks and felt in the bodies and lives of real people.
As a faith leader, I cannot speak about love without telling the truth about harm.
In 2023, the Texas Supreme Court upheld Senate Bill 14 in State of Texas v. Loe, allowing the state to ban gender-affirming medical care for transgender youth, even when that care is supported by parents, doctors and medical associations. The court called it protection.
Families call it devastating. Young people call it fear.
Let us name that clearly: Denying medically recommended care does not protect children. It endangers them.
At the same time, Texas has led the nation in book bans, removing stories that reflect LGBTQ+ lives from school libraries, silencing teachers, and sending a clear message to queer and trans students: Your story is not welcome here.
And in school districts across this state, policies have been adopted that force educators to ignore students’ identities or out them to parents, regardless of safety.
These are not neutral policies. They cause harm. They increase anxiety, depression, homelessness and suicide risk — especially among trans and queer youth.
And far too often, these actions are defended using the language of religion.
As a person of faith, I reject that distortion.
Across our faith traditions, we proclaim that every human being bears sacred worth. And yet in Texas, and across this nation, LGBTQ+ lives are debated as political abstractions instead of being protected as neighbors.
So let me say this as clearly as I know how:
LGBTQ+ people are sacred.
We are whole.
We are beloved.
We are welcome.
Not someday. Not quietly.
Not after surviving harm.
Now.
Any theology that requires people to erase themselves to be worthy of care is false. Any faith that produces fear instead of hope, shame instead of dignity has lost its way.
Jesus said we would know the tree by its fruit, and the fruit of these laws is suffering.
Pride exists because too many sanctuaries have been silent while legislatures have caused harm. Because too many pulpits have avoided controversy while families have been torn apart. Because too many leaders have confused political power with moral authority.
But today, as Christians walk toward Holy week and Easter, I say: Not in our name. Not in Texas. Not in the name of God.
We stand in solidarity on the side of love, not as a feeling, but as resistance. Love that says healthcare is holy. Love that says trans kids deserve to grow up safe. Love that says queer stories belong in our schools, our churches and our public life.
This is the work of building the Beloved Community — not a sentimental dream, but a hard, holy commitment to justice. A community where no one is disposable. Where difference is not punished. Where faith is measured not by who is excluded, but by who is protected.
And let us be honest: We cannot wait any longer. We cannot wait while courts uphold laws that harm children. We cannot wait while faith is used to justify cruelty. We cannot wait while young people are taught, by policy and by silence, that God made a mistake.
This is the moment on which we will be judged. History will not ask what we believed in theory. It will ask who we defended, who we stood beside and who we refused to abandon.
So may this Holy Week disrupt complacency. May our faith unsettle injustice. And may love — bold, defiant, and liberating — be the fire that leads us forward.
Pastoral Blessing
May every lie spoken over your life lose its power.
May you know, without doubt, that the Holy delights in who you are.
May you find communities that will fight for your dignity and protect your joy.
And may the love that created you, claims you, and calls you by name send you out with courage, strength, and hope. n
The Rev. Dr. Neil Thomas is senior pastor of Cathedral of Hope United Church of Christ and an activist for justice and equality for all people, including LGBTQ+ people.