Performative Love Never Changed the World
Real affirmation—real love—requires more than optics.
Every June, churches dust off their rainbow flags and rehearse their affirming slogans. Pews fill with the glow of Pride colors, pulpits ring with words like “welcome” and “inclusion,” and social media timelines overflow with #LoveIsLove hashtags. And yet, when the glitter settles and the cameras stop rolling, too many of those same institutions quietly return to business as usual. The rainbow comes down, but so does the truth.
Let’s call it what it is: performative love. It’s the kind of “support” that looks great in photos but doesn’t hold up in the harsh light of injustice. It’s a love that’s safe, polite, and marketable. It’s a love that never risks reputation, never costs money, never challenges power. And that’s not love at all, it’s branding.
Real affirmation—real love—requires more than optics. It demands proximity. It demands showing up when it’s uncomfortable, speaking out when it’s unpopular, and putting your resources where your rhetoric is. It’s one thing to post a statement; it’s another to stand in front of City Hall when they threaten to erase the rainbow crosswalk. It’s one thing to say, “All are welcome”; it’s another to make sure trans folks can find housing, queer teens have mentors, and chosen families have a place to grieve and to celebrate.
At Cathedral of Hope, we don’t just “welcome” the LGBTQIA+ community—we belong to it. We aren’t painting rainbows to look progressive; we are living them, moment by moment, person by person. Our ministries don’t stop at the sanctuary door. They stretch into food programs, justice partnerships, AIDS outreach, and mental health support. Because love that stays indoors isn’t love, it’s performance art.
I see churches all the time saying, “We’re inclusive!” while operating systems that still center straight, cisgender comfort. They want queer people in the pews but not in leadership. They want rainbows on the walls but not pronouns in the bulletin. They’ll bless your marriage now that it’s legal, but don’t ask them to challenge the laws still oppressing your trans siblings. It’s inclusion until inclusion gets inconvenient.
And let’s be clear: performative affirmation is spiritual malpractice. Because when you tell people they’re loved by God, but your actions suggest they’re still “less than,” you’re not preaching the gospel, you’re creating a new closet.
If you’re going to affirm—really affirm—then the community you claim to love needs more than your polished statements and rainbow selfies. They need your open doors and your open wallets, your hands in the struggle, your voice when it’s costly, your presence when it’s inconvenient. Real affirmation isn’t a brand; it’s a baptism into solidarity. It’s standing in the streets when the parade is over and the pain remains.
Here’s the truth: performative love never changed the world. Prophetic love does. Prophetic love flips tables in temples of hypocrisy. It refuses to trade justice for comfort or truth for approval. Prophetic love shows up when it’s messy, when it’s political, when it’s dangerous. It doesn’t wait for permission; it creates new spaces where God’s image, every gender, every body, every story, is celebrated without condition.
So yes, wave your flag. Paint your front steps. But don’t stop there. Feed someone. Shelter someone. Stand beside someone the system has forgotten. Because the rainbow was never meant to be decoration—it was a covenant. A promise from God that love would always have the last word.
So let’s be the kind of Church that doesn’t just paint rainbows, but becomes them—living reflections of God’s covenant promise that love always wins, and that there’s room enough for everyone beneath its colors.
