by Lily White
Every year on October 11, communities across the United States observe National Coming Out Day. For LGBTQ+ people, it’s both a celebration and a reminder that coming out is not just a one-time event but a lifelong journey. Every new job, every new neighborhood, every new introduction comes with the familiar calculation: Is it safe to share this part of myself? Will I be welcomed, or will I be pushed away?
As a lesbian Latina in ministry, I have lived these questions. I’ve proudly revealed the truth about myself, and I’ve also held it close when I wasn’t sure how it would be received. Over time, I’ve realized that Scripture offers surprising companions in this journey. God, too, has moments of coming out, revealing divine identity with both courage and caution.
Think back to Moses standing before the burning bush. When Moses asks for God’s name, the reply is deliberately vague: “I Am Who I Am.” (Exodus 3:14). God comes out, but not all the way. God is present, luminous, undeniable—and yet still cautious. It reminds me of that tender moment when a queer person edges toward disclosure, testing whether the space will be holy ground or hostile territory.
God’s answer is not a full explanation, but an invitation: “I will be who I will be. Walk with me, and you’ll get to know me.” In the same way, when queer people reveal themselves, they are saying, “Here I am. Walk with me, and you’ll get to know me.”
The resurrection story carries another coming-out moment. When Mary Magdalene first meets the risen Jesus, he says: “Do not touch me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father.” (John 20:17). Jesus is alive, but not yet ready to be fully embraced. He steps cautiously into his new reality, deciding when and how to reveal himself to each of his followers.
That hesitation resonates deeply. Many of us know what it feels like to rise into the truth of who we are but not yet be ready for the whole world to see. Jesus teaches us that timing belongs to us. Just as he chose his moments of self-revelation, queer people, too, have the right to decide when and how to come out.
Too often, coming out is viewed as a single, triumphant moment, like opening a closet door once and for all. But the reality is far more layered. Queer people come out again and again across a lifetime. To a new boss. To a doctor. To a neighbor. To a fellow attendee at a conference. Each disclosure carries its own weight and its own vulnerability.
In that repetition, I find another echo of God’s story. Throughout Scripture, God reveals Godself in new ways: as Creator, as Liberator, as Spirit, as Christ, as Fire, as Breath. God doesn’t come out once but many times, in many forms, across generations. If God chooses to reveal their identity over and over again, maybe that means there is something holy in our repeated coming out, too.
At the heart of every coming-out story, whether divine or human, is vulnerability. To say, “This is who I am,” is to risk rejection. To hope that the other will not turn away is to put your heart on the line.
And yet, vulnerability is the birthplace of love. God models this by revealing Godself again and again, even knowing that people might mock, betray, or crucify. Jesus’ entire ministry is built on the risk of opening himself to others while eating with outcasts, touching the untouchable, and loving without conditions.
When queer people come out, they step into that same divine vulnerability. It is no small thing. It is courage. It is sacred.
If you are reading this and you are not yet ready to come out, please know this: there is no clock ticking. You are beloved whether or not you ever say the words out loud. God’s timing for self-revelation was patient and deliberate, and yours can be, too. There are people and spaces where you will be safe and where your truth will be honored. You do not need to rush.
And if you are out, may you find the strength to keep coming out in the daily rhythms of life, trusting that each disclosure carries the imprint of God’s holy self-disclosure.
If you are not queer but someone comes out to you, remember that you are being entrusted with a holy revelation. Treat it as you would treat Moses’ burning bush, with awe, tenderness, and care. Celebrate with them. Thank them. And then commit to making your churches, workplaces, and families safe for LGBTQ+ people because coming out isn’t just about one conversation. It’s about creating a world where authenticity and vulnerability can flourish.
On this National Coming Out Day, I invite you to see the divine in every coming-out story. Just as God chose when and how to reveal Godself, queer people carry that same sacred authority. Just as Jesus stepped out of the tomb in his own time, queer people emerge into new life on their own terms. And just as God keeps showing up in fresh and surprising ways, queer people will continue to reveal themselves across a lifetime.
Each revelation is an act of love. Each disclosure is a spark of resurrection. And each “coming out” is holy ground.
Lily White (she/her) is a recent Master of Divinity graduate from Perkins School of Theology at SMU with a Baptist specialization. She serves as Director of Hospitality at University Baptist Church in Austin and recently completed a pastoral internship with the Alliance of Baptists. Lily also completed consultant training with the Center for Congregational Health and brings 14 years of hospitality industry experience to her ministry. She and her wife, Kris, recently celebrated 30 years together, love to travel, and share their home with two cats, Maeve and Nina.
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