Tag: homosexuality

What does it actually mean to be (open and) affirming?

In the context of church, “affirming” refers to a clear and public stance of full inclusion and support for LGBTQ+ individuals in all aspects of church life. While “open” often means that LGBTQ+ people are welcome to attend and participate, “affirming” goes further—celebrating LGBTQ+ identities as God-given and fully valid. Affirming churches allow LGBTQ+ individuals to lead, serve, marry, and be ordained without restriction, and they reject the belief that being LGBTQ+ is sinful or something to be changed.

This stance often involves interpreting what many consider traditional readings of Scripture through the lens of Jesus’ love, justice, and radical inclusion. It emphasizes the dignity and sacred worth of all people and sees gender and sexual diversity as part of God’s good creation. However, not all churches that say they are “welcoming” are affirming—some stop short of full inclusion. That’s why the word “affirming” matters: it signals a commitment not just to hospitality, but to belonging without condition.

I also think it’s important to point out that some churches are “affirming” to a point… and that point is typically marriage. For the purposes of this post, we’re not discussing the concept of marriage. (I’ll dive into that topic in the next post, so please don’t come at me with the ‘God made Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve’. We’re saving that discussion for next week.)

Now that we’ve established the difference between the terms open and affirming, it’s worth asking: How did the church come to believe that LGBTQ+ identity was incompatible with faith in the first place? Much of that belief is rooted in how certain passages of Scripture have been interpreted—and, in some cases, mistranslated.

And my ask is simple: Be patient with me as I try to unpack this—because it’s layered and deeply shaped by years of personal wrestling, learning, and unlearning.

I know the “But what about…?” questions are coming. I’ve asked many of them myself. And they matter. But I invite you to hold off—for just a moment. Let’s start by listening. Let’s start by holding space for complexity without rushing to debate or defend. Sometimes the most faithful response isn’t having all the answers, but being willing to sit with the tension long enough to truly hear the heart behind the words.

One of the most pivotal shifts came in 1946, when the word “homosexual” was first introduced into the English Bible in the Revised Standard Version. Before that, terms used in the original Greek—like arsenokoitai and malakoi—were translated with meanings more closely tied to exploitative or abusive sexual behavior, not consensual same-sex relationships as we understand them today. For centuries, the church did not read the Bible as condemning LGBTQ+ people broadly; rather, it focused on issues of power, lust, and injustice.

Understanding this change in language matters—because when a single word is introduced into sacred text with modern assumptions behind it, it can alter not only theology, but people’s lives. So let’s look more closely at how we got here—and why revisiting these translations is not about “changing the Bible,” but about a contextually honest reading of it.

The BIG question here is WHY was the word “homosexual” added in 1946?

This shift didn’t happen in a vacuum. It occurred during a time when homosexuality was being newly defined—and pathologized—in Western culture. In the mid-20th century, being gay was still classified as a mental disorder and criminalized in many places. The cultural lens through which translators approached Scripture was already clouded with fear, misunderstanding, and moral panic. As a result, when they encountered ancient Greek words whose meanings were debated or unclear, they made interpretive choices that aligned with the prejudices of their time—not necessarily the intent of the text.

The danger of this is profound.

When theology is shaped more by cultural bias than by contextual integrity, it ceases to be liberating and becomes weaponized. The inclusion of the word “homosexual” in modern Bibles gave religious language to a rising cultural stigma, reinforcing systems of exclusion and justifying harm under the guise of holiness. For decades, that mistranslation has been used to shame, silence, and push LGBTQ+ people out of churches—and, in many cases, out of their families and communities as well.

I also think it’s important to underscore this fact:

The man who oversaw the translation team for the Revised Standard Version (RSV), Dr. Luther Weigle, eventually acknowledged the mistake of introducing the word “homosexual” into the Bible in 1946. After correspondence with concerned scholars, the committee reviewed the historical and linguistic evidence.

By 1971, 25 years later, the translation team quietly corrected the error in the updated edition of the RSV, replacing “homosexuals” with a more accurate phrase: “sexual perverts”- an admission that the original translation had imposed a modern concept onto ancient texts.

But by that time, the damage had largely been done.

The 1946 RSV version had already influenced many subsequent English translations, including the NIV, ESV, NASB, and others, which adopted and solidified the term “homosexual” in verses like 1 Corinthians 6:9 and 1 Timothy 1:10. This single word, inaccurately inserted and later quietly revised, became a theological cornerstone for exclusion—used by churches, denominations, and institutions as a doctrinal basis for condemning LGBTQ+ people.

Yet there has always been another thread within Christian history: one that prioritizes justice, compassion, and faithful interpretation. Scholars, theologians, and pastors have done the careful, sacred work of returning to the original texts, reclaiming their meaning, and asking the deeper questions. Because when we approach Scripture, not to defend our assumptions but to seek truth, we find a Gospel that calls us to inclusion, restoration, and dignity for all.

This isn’t about rewriting the Bible—it’s about unlearning what was never actually there. And it’s about taking seriously the responsibility we have when we read, teach, and preach sacred text, knowing that the way we interpret Scripture shapes not only beliefs, but lives.

So, what does the Bible actually say?

The original words—arsenokoitai and malakoi, for example—don’t neatly translate to “homosexuals,” and in fact, their meanings were debated even in the early church.

The handful of verses often cited—like those in Leviticus, Romans, or 1 Corinthians—are addressing specific cultural practices: exploitative sexual behavior, temple prostitution, and systems of power and dominance that had little to do with mutual, committed love between equals. What’s clear is that these passages were never intended to be blanket statements about LGBTQ+ identity or relationships.

(I also think this is a great time to point out the obvious: Many of the exploitive sexual abuses addressed in Scripture—such as coercion, infidelity, objectification, and the misuse of sex for power—have occurred within heterosexual contexts throughout history and still do today. The Bible consistently condemns sexual behavior that dehumanizes, manipulates, or harms others—regardless of the genders involved.)

When we step back and look at the broader narrative of Scripture—its heartbeat is not exclusion, but liberation. Jesus himself never mentions homosexuality, but he consistently lifts up those pushed to the margins and confronts the religious gatekeepers who weaponize Scripture for control. So no, the Bible doesn’t “clearly” condemn queer people, as so many have argued. What it does clearly condemn is violence, exploitation, hypocrisy, and the misuse of religion to burden others.

The purpose of this post was to give some historical reference points to how the word “homosexual” was added to the Bible… centuries later. But, that’s only one part of the conversation. Next week I’ll dig a little deeper. Specifically, does the presence of Adam and Eve in the garden really mean God excluded everyone else from the story that followed?

You know… easy stuff.