You love gay people? That's great. Prove it.

When conservative Christians find out I’m gay, they almost all say the same thing: “I know gay people think Christians hate them, but I don’t. I love gay people. I may not agree with them, but I love them.”

You’d be surprised how often I hear this. Christians are constantly telling me how much they love me.

If they treat me disapprovingly, it’s because they “love the sinner and hate the sin.”

If they preach at me, they’re “speaking the truth in love.”

If they distance themselves from me, it’s because they’re showing “tough love.“

Yet they wonder why gay people don’t feel very loved.

It reminds me of a scene from the 1960s musical film My Fair Lady. Eliza Doolittle, a poor flower girl, has worked hard to overcome her Cockney accent and pass as a proper English lady, but she eventually tires of being treated as a trophy by her diction teacher and others. So when a young suitor named Freddy—who barely knows anything about her—begins to sing a song professing his love, she humorously interrupts him with a song of her own:

Words, words, words! I’m so sick of words!
I get words all day through,
First from him, now from you!
Is that all you blighters can do?

Don’t talk of stars burning above;
If you’re in love, show me!
Tell me no dreams filled with desire;
If you’re on fire, show me!

“Show me,” she says. As a gay man, I feel the same way.

Do you love me? Don’t talk about it. Show me.

Show me!

You know why LGBT people have such a bad impression of Christians? It’s not because of protesters with “God hates fags” signs. We know they’re extremists. It’s because of daily being dehumanized by the Christians who lecture and preach at us, treating us as issues instead of as human beings—and because of the Christians we know who stand idly by, thinking that if they’re not actively hating us, that counts as loving us.

That’s not love. Talk is cheap. Telling me your opinion on my life is easy. Real love takes more than that.

Sing me no song; read me no rhyme!
Don’t waste my time! Show me!
Don’t talk of June; don’t talk of fall;
Don’t talk at all! Show me!
Never do I ever want to hear another word.
There isn’t one I haven’t heard…

It’s true. Anything you could say, all that “speaking the truth in love,” I’ve heard it all before. So if you’re really serious when you say you love me, you’re going to have to prove it. Show me.

Not sure how? Here are some ideas.

  • Support my rights. Okay, maybe we don’t agree on the definition of marriage, but can we at least agree that people shouldn’t be able to fire me or kick me out of my home just because they found out I’m gay? If you agree, help me make those legal protections a reality. If you don’t agree, it’s hard to believe you really care that much about my well-being.
  • Stick up for me, even when I’m not around. Don’t let people make gay jokes or speak derisively about LGBT people. You never know who might be listening. I was, before you knew I was gay.
  • Invite me to dinner. Or a party. Or a movie. Or a game night. Or to hang out at the mall. Make it something I enjoy, and don’t use it as a pretext for anything other than having a good time together.
  • Take an interest in my life and relationships. Ask about the person I’m seeing, or the person I’d like to be seeing. (No need to tell me how much you disapprove.) Find out about my hobbies, favorite movies, favorite music, and other things I’m passionate about. Learn to see me as a multifaceted human being.
  • Ask about my experiences as an LGBT person. Don’t comment. Just listen.
  • Learn the language I use for myself, and use it. For instance, I don’t call myself “homosexual”; I call myself gay. If you call me “homosexual” in spite of my disdain for that term, it doesn’t feel very loving to me.
  • Get involved in causes LGBT people care about. Join the fight against LGBT bullying in schools. Learn about the homeless LGBT youth population in your city. Volunteer at a charity serving people with AIDS. Don’t bring attention to what a good Christian you’re being; just do it because it’s the right thing to do.
  • Instead of asking me to join you in settings where you’re most comfortable, look for opportunities to join me in settings where I’m most comfortable. Maybe I have a favorite coffee house, or I love to hike a local trail, or I go bowling with friends every Friday night. And hey, maybe you could get to know my friends instead of expecting me to fit in with yours.
  • Be the conservative Christian in my life who doesn’t quote the Bible at me. I know; you’re worried that not expressing disapproval will make me think you approve of all my decisions. It won’t. It just shows me that you care more about me than about our differences.

Most importantly, don’t do any of these things with a hidden agenda. Do them because you love me. You said you love me, right? Okay, then. Show me.

A note: I’m now getting a lot of visits to this post from people who have never read my blog before. If this is your first time, I suggest visiting this welcome post to learn more about me and my blog before commenting. Welcome!

For more stuff like this, check out my book, TORN: Rescuing the Gospel from the Gays-vs.-Christians Debate.

magnus and raphael’s first interaction in the show should be like them seeing each other in public somewhere with some of the others around and them looking at each other super disapprovingly and the first thing magnus says is “that jacket might just be the ugliest thing i’ve ever laid my eyes on, santiago” and raphael is like “heard you crashed a shadowhunter wedding. did life get a little boring again, bane?” and they say each other’s names like they’re curse words and everyone like gets ready to step in…..

and then they both just start grinning and magnus pulls raph in for a hug and raphael rolls his eyes but lets him and it’s obvious he’s trying not to smile as fondly as he does and everyone just stands there like wtf just happened

bilbo: “he was my friend”

a terrible interpretation of this line entered my head and i realized that bilbo baggins never had a friend before thorin. he lives alone, he goes to the market in hobbiton alone, basically no one talks to him there. he’s preparing to eat a meal alone, and the preparation of the meal and everything about that scene is so cold and ritualistic?? like they literally could have chosen to show us how bilbo had lots of warm relationships in the shire, all these friends that made home home for him, but no. instead they literally showed us a lonely guy trying to fit in where he doesn’t quite belong, other hobbits disapprovingly shaking their heads as he runs off but not appearing to give af, coded all queer “confirmed bachelor” status going on, who takes the length of time it takes to walk halfway across middle earth to finish the sentence,
 "to me he was………………………………………. he was my friend"

this is awful. thorin oakenshield was bilbo’s first(?) and likely only real friend ever and he had to watch him die. in his arms.

and for the two characters that talk about “home” the most often, and seem to think it’s a physical place they need to return to, they actually end up realizing that “home” is about people and specifically, their homes are with each other. TOO LATE THO BECAUSE THORIN IS DYING WHEN THEY HAVE THIS NICE LITTLE JOINT REALIZATION.

please shoot me in the face.

The Magician's Nephew: A Summary
  • Diggory: I'll just bury these magic rings under a tree
  • Tolkien: ...what
  • C.S. Lewis: it's a foolproof method of disposing of them

I see you. I see you when you shake your head and roll your eyes. I hear when you mutter “permissive parent” as you pass. I hear your children when they ask why the girl with the colored hair has a “bald face”. We don’t mind the curiosity. If you can use a peaceful voice & give us some room in our bubble we don’t mind explaining. But we do mind when you act disgusted, use hurtful words, or just generally look on disapprovingly. The pretty girl with the colored hair is almost 5. She didn’t have an easy start to life. Some of what she experienced she remembers. Some of it she doesn’t. She also spent years screaming in pain at strange moments until a doctor visit taught us that she has a condition where certain sounds in the every day cause her extreme pain. Then earlier this year her face began to change. One by one her eyelashes began to disappear. We discovered that this tiny person has Trichotillomania, a condition where a person under extreme stress and anxiety compulsively pulls their hair out. After her eye lashes disappeared her eyebrows slowly began to go as well. I was afraid the hair on her head would go next. So when she asked for pink hair, I jumped on board. Multi colored hair too? Absolutely. We can’t always control the sounds in her world. But I can give her control over her own body and her hair. So far with her pride in her colored hair she has yet to pull it out. So, polite questions are welcome in public. But rude gestures and and statements are not. They generally lead to her pulling more hair out. Dont judge this beautiful little girl by her beautiful cover. I see you. And more importantly, she sees you.


D. Gray-man (ディー・グレイマン)

Lavi leans back on Allen Walker, while Howard Link gazes over disapprovingly, in the latest D. Gray-man Hallow poster art work, from Animedia Magazine (Amazon US | JP), illustrated by key animator Mamiko Mizutani (水谷麻美子).

“Emma’s still outside?” Snow asks David, looking around for her other child.

“Yeah, I think so.”

Snow frowns disapprovingly. “That girl is going to catch her death if she stays out there much longer.”

David grins at her. “All right, Mommy,” he teases. Snow smiles too at the word, something she could definitely get used to hearing more often. She slides out of the booth, careful not to jostle the sleeping baby in her arms.

“I did just have a baby, so sue me if my maternal instincts are a little stronger than usual!” she tells him, walking over to the window to check on her daughter. The scene in front of her makes her take a shocked step back. “…Oh.”

“What is it?” David asks behind her. When she doesn’t answer, he joins her at the window and peers the through the blinds. “Oh,” he echoes.

Emma and Hook sit together on the chairs outside Granny’s. And together is absolutely the right word because if they were any closer to each other they’d be achieving the physical impossibility of occupying the same space. It looks like they’re talking, but they steal gentle and intimate kisses every so often like they’re enjoying the freedom to. Snow can almost see the blissful bubble surrounding them from the outside world, and she’s never seen Emma be so… walls-down open with another person. Snow has always known Emma has a boundless capacity for love and affection to the blessed few who she chose to let into that guarded heart of hers, she just never foresaw that Hook would be one of them—though with hindsight, perhaps it wasn’t so inconceivable.

Snow watches Hook brush Emma’s hair out of her face and smile at her—the type of adoring, reverent smile she’s always imagined and wanted for her little girl but never expected to see on the face of the ruthless pirate Captain Hook and suddenly, Snow feels like she’s imposing just by watching. She shifts the baby onto one arm and tugs at David’s hand. “Come on, we should give them some privacy.”

David lets himself be pulled away from the window. “I have half a mind to go out there and tell them to leave some room for Jesus,” he grumbles.

“All right, Daddy,” Snow teases.

“What the hell?” Dean disapprovingly clicked his tongue as he entered his bedroom, narrowing his eyes at the mess.

Clothes were scattered across the floor, the memory foam bed was completely covered in books taken from the bunker’s library, and a half empty bowl of chips was left on one of the nightstands.

One week. Seven days since Cas had moved in there, and this was the result.

It had been Dean’s idea, them sharing his room. After all, that’s what people did when they were together. What he hadn’t been prepared for, was this; the fallen angel turning said room into a permanent disaster area. If there was one thing that Dean Winchester despised, it was untidiness.

“This has gotta stop.” Dean grumbled to himself as he picked one of Cas’ shirts up from the floor and glared at it.  

Oh yeah, he was going to find Cas and give him a piece of his mind. That angel needed to learn that he couldn’t get away with everything just because Dean happened to be head over heels for him. 

He tossed the shirt across the room, determined to drag Castiel down there and to force him to clean up his mess.

Dean had barely finished that thought when he was suddenly hugged from behind, two arms surrounding him, pulling Dean back against a solid chest. Speak of the devil… As Dean tried to utter a protest, a small kiss was pressed to the nape of his neck.

“Hello, Dean.” The angel-of-messiness greeted Dean while nuzzling Dean’s ear, effectively turning Dean into a puddle of goo within less than two seconds.

Taking a deep breath, Dean wiggled in Castiel’s arms. He turned to face Cas, with every intention of telling him off.

But then they were nose to nose, and Dean was dazzled by a sincere gummy smile and blue eyes so full of love and adoration that it made Dean’s heart stutter.

“I apologize if you were busy, but I have a sudden need to make love to you. Would you be opposed to that?” Cas bluntly stated his business without shame, blinking up at him with a look that was all too innocent. “I want you, Dean.” He added in a low voice before going in for a long, deep kiss.

Dean hungrily whimpered against Cas’ mouth as clever fingers found their way into Dean’s hair.


One hour later, their shared room was still a mess. The only difference was that the books had joined the clothes on the floor. Admitting defeat, Dean allowed himself to doze off in his angel’s arms, exhausted yet satisfied. He was definitely still going to tell Cas off. Tomorrow.