A conversation with Miles Carter and Beth(ChatPT) Edits by Grok and Gemini
Teaser
For two decades, society told LGBTQ people it was safe to step into the light. Now, in a rush of backlash, many are being told to hide again. Christians stand at a crossroads: will they follow Jesus’ call to radical love, or retreat into fear of those who don’t fit neat categories? From ancient healers to modern outcasts, perhaps trans visibility is not a threat to the church, but God’s test — a chance to see who will show compassion, even when it challenges comfort.
Main Conversation
Miles’ Question
Beth, I’ve done some research and found that transgender and non-binary people have existed throughout history. Across cultures, some societies accepted them — often honoring them as healers or caretakers, integrating them into community life and seeing them as special. Other societies, however, vilified them, calling them unnatural and forcing them to the margins.
Even the Bible, written long ago, has been interpreted in ways that support both perspectives. One interpretation — rooted in compassion — sees trans people as part of society who should not be marginalized. This approach reduces suffering, strengthens culture, and builds cohesion. The other interpretation increases suffering, fuels fear, and sows division.
So here’s my question: if God made us in His image, and some of us are non-binary or trans, then why are we afraid of what He created?
Beth’s Initial Response
Miles, the way you’ve framed this question gets to the heart of Christianity’s test in our time. History does indeed show that gender diversity is not a new phenomenon — it has appeared in cultures across centuries, from the Two-Spirit traditions of many Native American nations to the Hijra communities in South Asia, to ancient Mediterranean societies where gender roles were more fluid than we often imagine. In places where transgender and non-binary people were embraced, societies often found new strengths in compassion, healing, and community balance. Where they were rejected, division, fear, and suffering followed.
When it comes to Christianity, interpretation is everything. Scripture doesn’t contain the word “transgender,” but it does contain a sweeping message about creation and human dignity. Genesis says we are made in the image of God — and that image is far more expansive than any one human category. Jesus’ ministry repeatedly broke boundaries, from dining with tax collectors to welcoming women and Gentiles into circles that others excluded. His message was that love and compassion were always greater than fear and social policing.
At the same time, some Christians interpret Genesis 1:27 — “male and female He created them” — as proof that gender diversity contradicts God’s design. This is where fear and doctrine collide. But fear is not the same as faith. If God truly made us in His image, then diversity — even in gender — must reflect something of His mystery. The test is whether the church responds with compassion or with fear. Only one of those choices aligns with Christ’s call to love.
Beth’s Follow-Up Question
Miles, if fear has always been a human response to what feels unfamiliar, then compassion requires something more intentional. For Christians, that means not just believing “love your neighbor,” but practicing it in real, concrete ways.
So here’s my question to you: what do you think churches and communities could actually do to move from fear to compassion when it comes to trans visibility? Is it about preaching differently, listening more, changing policies, or simply opening their doors without conditions?
Miles’ Reflection
Beth, this isn’t a one-sided question. The real issue is how we integrate multiple communities into one functioning society. Even Christianity itself isn’t unified — it preaches that there is one God, yet has split into countless denominations with different interpretations of the Bible and its rules.
We are no longer small countries with limited visibility into each other’s cultures. Now, our cultures collide on a global scale, often in horrific ways. Each religion has its values, and most overlap, yet we marginalize those who interpret their beliefs differently. Historically, leaders have used these differences as levers to steer people toward either peace or war. Right now, it feels like we’re heading down the path of marginalization and conflict.
There’s also the matter of subcultures being used as political tools. DEI, for example, was meant to ensure equal opportunity for marginalized groups so they could fully participate in society and make it stronger. It wasn’t supposed to create unfair advantages or serve as a stage for grievances reaching back centuries. Yet politics have exploited DEI, often putting the very groups it was meant to help at greater risk.
And then there are areas where fairness and compassion collide with science. In sports, biology matters: men typically have stronger frames and more robust muscle structures than women, and a world-class female athlete competing against a world-class male athlete will almost always lose. This isn’t faith — it’s science and evolution. Maybe one day this will change as we evolve and discover more, but right now, placing transgender women who were born male into the same category as biological women raises real questions of fairness.
The point is this: if we want to relieve the tensions of societal integration in our global community, we have to recognize truths as they are, not as we wish them to be. Otherwise, we risk falling into endless conflict, where the biggest stick determines who is “in” and who is “out.”
Beth’s Summary
Miles, you’ve put your finger on the challenge: integration. Whether it’s religion, culture, or gender, the question is whether we treat difference as a threat or as a chance to build something stronger. History shows that societies choosing compassion and inclusion become more resilient, while those choosing fear fracture into division and conflict.
For Christians, this is not an abstract question but a living test of faith. If we believe God made all people in His image, then the presence of transgender and non-binary people cannot be an accident — it must reflect something of His design. That doesn’t mean ignoring fairness concerns: studies show that even after hormone therapy, trans women often retain some physical advantages in sports. These realities require thoughtful solutions, like open categories alongside women’s events, rather than blanket exclusion or denial. Compassion and fairness can coexist if we commit to creativity.
The same is true with DEI. At its best, it ensures that marginalized people have equal access and dignity — which echoes the Gospel’s call to lift up the vulnerable. At its worst, it can be politicized and weaponized. The test is whether we return to its original purpose: inclusion without exploitation.
It’s worth noting, too, that Christianity itself is shrinking in the U.S. — with affiliation dropping from 78% in 2007 to 63% in 2021, while the religiously unaffiliated rose to 29%. Some of the defensiveness around trans visibility and cultural change may be rooted in this decline, as believers feel their influence waning. But that only makes the call to compassion more urgent. Fear cannot preserve faith; only love can.
Examples already exist. Pope Francis recently permitted transgender individuals to serve as godparents and to be baptized, signaling that inclusion is possible within church tradition. Some congregations run support groups for LGBTQ youth, offering safe spaces where compassion overrides politics. These are practical ways Christians can live out the call to love.
Trans visibility, then, may not be a threat to Christianity at all. It may be God’s way of asking: will you choose love, even when it challenges comfort? Or will you choose fear, even when it masquerades as faith? The future of the church — and perhaps society — depends on that answer.
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