Remember that dress that tore the internet apart in 2015? Many saw it as gold and white. Others saw it as black and blue. I was firmly on team “gold and white”. I never could see it as black and blue. I’d have sworn to my death that it was gold and white—apparently, it’s black and blue. This is obvious if you see it in a different light.
Imagine a scenario with me. It’s a little gruesome, my apologies. Imagine that a lady wearing that dress has been brutally assaulted and left for dead in the street. She’s bleeding profusely. A couple of passersby spot her, but to her peril, they also see the dress. One is convinced it's gold and white. The other one is black and blue. They fight and argue about the color of the dress for a solid 15 minutes. The woman bleeds out.
Abuse in the LGBTQ+ Community
June has been dubbed Pride Month. I’ve read my share of articles discussing the merits of such a thing. As a pastor, I’m confronted with this issue in June and throughout the year. Christians want to know how they should respond. How do we love our neighbors if we disagree with them? Should we disagree with them? Is it possible for Christians to be affirming? Can you love someone and not affirm them?
To some, these questions are complex and nuanced. To others, there is an obvious right and wrong answer—and that’s true for those on both sides of the issue. I’m hesitant to liken this to a black-and-blue or gold-and-white dress argument. I think most would say it's on a different level. But hang with me. I’m not trying to say that the debate isn’t important—but that even important debates shouldn’t take precedence over someone who has been brutally assaulted.
This is why I want us to focus on a great harm that befalls the LGBTQ+ community—intimate partner violence. One study has shown that “43.8% of lesbian women and 61.1% of bisexual women have experienced rape, physical violence, and/or stalking by an intimate partner at some point in their lifetime, as opposed to 35% of heterosexual women.”[1] Though it happens amongst gay and bisexual men as well, the rates are not wildly different than those of heterosexual men.
LGBTQ+ women experience intimate partner violence at a staggering rate. And we need to talk about this.
Why Is Abuse a Crisis in the LGBTQ+ Community?
I say “carefully” because even asking the question of “why” is inching toward blaming the victim. If a young woman confides in you that she was sexually assaulted, it’s inappropriate to ask, “What were you wearing?” It doesn’t matter what she was wearing. Nor does it matter where she was or in what circumstance she had placed herself. She does not deserve sexual assault. I think Diane Langberg says this well:
Many years ago, I taught a seminary class on clergy sexual abuse. At one point in the lecture, I said, ‘As pastors, you will have power in your relationships with congregants…always. Whether you feel powerful or vulnerable, at any given time, you’re the one with the power in that relationship. Your words and actions carry authority. If a woman comes to see you for counseling about her marriage and one day, confused and longing for attention, she stands up and undresses in front of you, what happens next depends entirely on you. What she has done tells us some things about her, for sure. But what you do in response tells us about you. It tells us what you are like in the presence of unfettered vulnerability.’ The classroom was very quiet.[2]
That is a great example because I know our tendency in such a situation might be to place all of the blame on the woman undressing in front of a pastor. But the reality, which Langberg speaks to, is that if the pastor responds inappropriately toward her, it speaks volumes about his character. She, at that moment, would not deserve abuse.
I know that the response of some Christians to these statistics might, sadly, be initially cold-hearted. We might hear these statistics and say, “That’s the consequence of their rebellion. If you don’t live God’s way, this is what will happen.” While that may very well be true, it’s not the appropriate question or response to such a disclosure.
Yes, I believe that living according to God’s design for the world will lead to human flourishing. And I also believe that we’ve all, in some way or another, made shipwreck of God’s good design. We have, to use the language of a popular children’s book, placed ourselves “where the wild things are.” While that might promise a bit of freedom, it ultimately leads to loneliness and difficulty. It’s a place of harm instead of happiness.
Yet, I think it may be helpful—though I’m not the one to do it here—to ask good questions about these relationships. Why is this so prevalent in the relationships of lesbian and bisexual women? Why do we not see the same higher rates among men? If abuse is fundamentally about control, is there a unique temptation in these communities?
I don’t know the answer to these questions. But I think they need to be explored. And I would especially love to see them explored from a Christian perspective, but a Christian perspective that doesn’t quickly grab for the “easy” answers which either teeter towards victims blaming or plunges headlong into that “reason”.
But I suppose even arguing these questions could leave us drawing swords while a hurting person is bleeding out in front of us. It’s time to move on to how we can help.
Remember, We Are All Made in God’s Image
Let’s go back to that young lady bleeding and broken in the street. If you’re even a half-decent person, when you see her harmed, you don’t ask questions about her past, her political affiliation, which church she is a member of, or whether she thinks pineapple belongs on pizza. You help her. Why?
First, it's because life is precious. That’s why you’d maybe even stop for an injured animal. All of life was created by God and is valuable. But secondly, human life is eternally valuable because we are made in the image of God. If the lady were significantly harmed, and so was her cat, you’d hopefully go to her first. People are made in the image of God. This is true if you are LGBTQ+, heterosexual, or asexual. Abuse denies this and desecrates the image of God. I like how Pierre and Wilson say this:
God created people in His image to represent Him in the world. This means every person is granted the privilege of using his or her personal capacities to bring order and goodness to the world as a representative of God (Genesis 1:26-31). All sin is a failure to be like God in the use of personal capacities, but abuse takes this a step further by seeking to diminish the personal capacities of someone else. Abuse desecrates what God made sacred: the personhood of those who bear His image (James 3:9).[3]
Abuse harms the personhood of the one being abused, and it also has dulling and crippling impact on the image of God in the abuser. When abuse happens, God’s image is doubly trampled. This is why Christians should respond to such—regardless of the sexuality of the one abusing or being abused.
I would also argue that addressing the abuse takes precedence over addressing the issues of sexuality. I say this because of how Jesus interacted with those in need of healing and rescue. In Luke 13, when Jesus healed a man on the Sabbath, the religious leaders were indignant. “He could have done that on the next day!” they railed. He likened it to being in bondage to Satan for eighteen long years. Abuse is bondage.
I know that many would also say that inordinate sexuality also keeps on in bondage. Personally, I agree (and that’s whether you're heterosexual or homosexual). But let’s think about this for a moment. Imagine a person is in one of those Iron Maiden torture devices from the Middle Ages, and the door is about to be shut. A passerby happens to notice that the victim is handcuffed. If you want to rescue the person, your best option isn’t to remove the handcuffs; you can pull them out of the Iron Maiden.
An abuser will implant themselves in the very soul of a person and wreak havoc. They are the lens through which everything is seen. They are the Iron Maiden that encloses the victim—surrounding with the jagged edges of physical assault, emotional manipulation, spiritual deprivation, and more. If you focus here, I bet you’ll be afforded an opportunity to talk about the handcuffs.
So, how do we help those who are in an LGBTQ+ relationship that is experiencing intimate partner violence (IPV)?
How Can We Help the Abused in the LGBTQ+ Community?
I am assuming here that you have a relationship with the person. If they are minors, your first call needs to be to the authorities AND to child services (call both). If they are not a minor you need to let them lead the charge in how quickly they “get out”. Your first priority is their safety. That might mean contacting the authorities and helping them find a safe place or a shelter. Ensure the victim that they are not alone and that help is available. But you cannot force this help upon an adult.
Secondly, you need to give emotional support. That means listening without judgment and reassuring them. This isn’t the time for lectures. It’s to help them tell their story and get their voice back. And to walk with them through whatever steps they need to take. You can also connect them to professional resources and counselors.
You should also know that for those within the LGBTQ+ community, some of these doors of help have been shut to them. Or they might perceive them to be shut. Will they feel comfortable sharing their story with your pastor? Are they going to consider that church member to be as “safe” as you consider them?
There is much more that can be said here. My goal in this article is simply to raise awareness and encourage our churches to love those who are hurting. This is the heart of Christ for those created in God’s image. Work to restore the image of God and free them from their abuser. Point them to the freedom in Christ and marvel at how far-reaching that freedom might stretch.
[1] https://ncadv.org/blog/posts/domestic-violence-and-the-lgbtq-community
[2] Diane Langberg, Redeeming Power, 25
[3] When Home Hurts, Jeremy Pierre and Greg Wilson, 40
Photo Credit: Image created using DALL.E 2024 AI technology and subsequently edited and reviewed by our editorial team.
Mike Leake is husband to Nikki and father to Isaiah and Hannah. He is also the lead pastor at Calvary of Neosho, MO. Mike is the author of Torn to Heal and Jesus Is All You Need. His writing home is http://mikeleake.net and you can connect with him on Twitter @mikeleake. Mike has a new writing project at Proverbs4Today.
