Grace in the Valley

A Blog for St. Mary’s

Trans Testimony 

March 20, 2025

A personal story from a local trans person who wishes to remain anonymous:

I grew up in church. Every Sunday, I sat in the pews, sang the hymns, and listened to sermons about love, grace, and redemption. But as I got older, I realized those messages weren’t meant for me. I’m transgender, and in the small-town church I grew up in, there was no space for people like me.

For years, I believed the lie that being trans put me outside the reach of God’s love. I tried to suppress who I was, tried to fit into the rigid gender roles laid out before me. But it never worked. And eventually, I had to choose: abandon my faith or abandon myself.

That choice nearly broke me. But then, something unexpected happened—I started reading the Bible for myself. Not through the lens of those who condemned me, but through the lens of a God who created, loved, and liberated. And what I found changed everything.

Scripture is full of stories of transformation.

Of people shedding old identities and stepping into new ones—like Saul becoming Paul, transformed from a persecutor of Christians to one of the greatest apostles.

Of outcasts finding belonging—like the Ethiopian eunuch in Acts 8, who was baptized and welcomed into God’s family despite being considered an outsider.

Of bodies—marked as unworthy by society—becoming sites of divine revelation—like the bleeding woman in Mark 5, whom Jesus healed and affirmed after years of suffering and exclusion.

Jesus himself shattered every expectation of who the Messiah was supposed to be. He sought out those the religious elite had cast aside, reminding them—and us—that the kingdom of God belongs to those who dare to believe they, too, are beloved.

That includes trans people.

Christianity does not belong to those who weaponize it against us. The church is not a gated community for the privileged and the conforming. It is a home for the lost, the broken, and the brave. And I refuse to let anyone tell me I don’t belong here.

So, I take up space. I claim my faith. I worship openly as a trans person because I know my existence is not a mistake—it’s a testament to the boundless creativity of God. I see other trans folks doing the same, whether in small conservative churches in Ramona or in explicitly affirming spaces that welcome us with open arms. Some of us stay and push for change; some of us build new communities from the ground up. But all of us are doing sacred work.

Trans people belong in the church. Not as objects of pity, not as theological debates, but as full and equal members of the body of Christ. We are not waiting for permission to exist. We are here, claiming what has always been ours: our faith, our dignity, and our rightful place at the table.

And for those still searching, still hurting, still wondering if there is a way forward—I promise you, there is. God’s love is not limited to those who fit neatly into society’s expectations. It is wild, expansive, and unstoppable. Just like us.