What We Lose Will Be Redeemed–Even Our Families

Today’s reflection is from Bondings 2.0 contributor Mark Guevarra.

Today’s liturgical readings for the Twenty-third Sunday of  Ordinary Time are available here.

Jesus’ teaching in today’s gospel is to “hate our father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, and even our own life” in order to be his disciple. That teaching touches viscerally. In our times, it would be difficult to hate these primary relationships. And in ancient times, to hate one’s father is to reject the patriarchal system that families are built on. And so then as now, this challenging teaching cuts to the core.

For those of us who have come out as LGBTQ+ and experienced the pain of rejection by friends and family, hatred towards those closest to us might come easier. And besides hatred, some of us might feel frustration, betrayal, grief, or even pity. And so, how does Jesus’ teaching speak to us?

The key to this teaching is found in later in the same gospel at Luke 18:29-30. Jesus teaches, “Truly I tell you, there is no one who has left house or wife or brothers or parents or children, for the sake of the kingdom of God, who will not get back very much more in this age, and in the age to come eternal life.” He is telling us that what we have lost will be redeemed. Everything will be made whole, right, just, and good.

Losing family, which I read as code for, losing the familiar and comfortable human-made structures that provide the selfish ego with superficial security, is hard. But when we take the leap out of that or are pushed from the familiar, we will find grace. And allowing that grace to deeply penetrate us can be transformative. It’s helped me to be and see and live differently in the world.

My old, closeted self which lived in anxiety and fear now lives with more courage and confidence. My old, closeted self which wore masks to play roles, is now more comfortable and more vulnerable to remove them.

But even these are just one step on the lifelong journey of being a follower of Jesus Christ. Grace’s transforming work of refining my true self involves cultivating compassion with myself and others, deepening communion with the earth and the least of these, strengthening my sense of security in God and my divinely-given identity, and rejecting false idols that only provide superficial joy and fleeting peace. For me, this is what it means to carry the cross:  not to revel in my emotions. but to recognize God’s abundant, unconditional, and abiding grace already coursing through our veins.

Admittedly, life after coming out as LGBTQ+ is not all sunshine and lollipops. I still bear the scars of fear, anxiety, and rejection. On top of that there’s the fear of making ends meet, the struggles of dating, the pain of heart break, and the work of self-acceptance and teaching my mind, heart and body to become more securely attached. But the good news is that all will be and is being redeemed.

A sign of this redemption for me is the unconditionally loving and supportive chosen family I have. And along with that is the larger queer family that spans space and time. Our big and beautiful queer family is a sign of hope. They show me that God does give back what I lost and more. Their welcome, solidarity, shared woundedness, and audacious lives of joy and hope, are signs of the reign of God in my midst.

Sure, it’s not a perfect family. There’s hatred, discrimination, and ignorance, but it, too, is a work in progress with
God’s grace. The same goes for the entire church.

I think this is the heart of the Jubilee Year of Hope. We all need to keep hoping for God’s grace in our lives to transform us, our relationships, our pains and griefs, our rejections, and our familiar ways of being. And this transformation can’t just happen in our minds. In fact, in order for transformation to happen, it needs to be connected to our bodies. Jesus knew that the Good News couldn’t just touch the mind, but needed to touch the body in order for it to transform us. I think this is why today’s teaching to hate is so visceral.

In this Year of Hope we are invited to walk through Jubilee Holy Doors. That is an embodied act that brings our bodies, weighed down by our emotions, to God’s grace and mercy. To feel the burdens lifted physically enables grace to penetrate us viscerally. Whether we do that in St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome, or in our home parishes or even a forest, we must bring our bodies into contact with God’s indwelling grace.

—Mark Guevarra, September 7, 2025