This is the context in which churches now find themselves. Not at the end of a crisis, when injustice is unmistakable and universally condemned, but at an earlier and more decisive stage—when harm is still debated, when victims are easy to dismiss, and when resistance carries social cost but remains possible. History shows that this is the moment when institutions retain the most moral leverage. It is also the moment they most often fail.
Many churches feel pressure to remain quiet. Speaking clearly in support of transgender people may provoke backlash from members, donors, or denominational partners. Leaders may be accused of being political or divisive. Congregations may fear conflict, decline, or loss of reputation. These risks are real, and they explain much of the hesitation we see.
But these risks are not the same as the risks that come later.
As repression hardens, the cost of resistance does not disappear—it escalates. Social disapproval gives way to legal constraint, financial pressure, or threats to institutional survival. At that stage, churches may still speak, but their words are far less likely to protect anyone. Resistance becomes reactive rather than preventative, symbolic rather than sheltering.
Too often, institutions tell themselves they are waiting for clarity, when in fact they are waiting for safety. By the time injustice is undeniable, the opportunity to intervene meaningfully has usually narrowed or closed. Silence at the earlier stage is later justified as inevitability.
For Christians, this is not only a political or social question. It is a theological one. Churches proclaim that every person bears the image of God. Yet transgender people are being denied healthcare, forced into invisibility, and framed as problems to be managed rather than neighbours to be loved. When schools are pressured to deny students their names, when hospitals halt care out of fear, and when public rhetoric treats trans existence as a threat, the church’s response becomes a test of its integrity.
Neutrality in such moments is not neutral. Silence does not preserve innocence; it signals whose suffering we are willing to tolerate. When churches choose institutional comfort over human dignity, they teach—whether intentionally or not—that survival matters more than faithfulness.
The question is not whether churches will eventually have to choose. That moment has already arrived. The choice now is whether decisions will be made deliberately, guided by conscience and courage, or by fear and default.
History will remember this era as a turning point for transgender people. It will also remember how churches responded—who offered refuge and truth, and who remained quiet until silence itself became policy.
A Call to Act
Church leaders can act now, while action still matters:
- Teach clearly that transgender people are fully human, beloved by God, and deserving of dignity, safety, and care.
- Protect concretely the trans people in your congregations and communities through policies, pastoral support, and public affirmation.
- Speak publicly against laws and narratives that erase or endanger transgender lives.
- Decide in advance what costs you are willing to bear for integrity, so fear does not decide for you later.
The time for waiting has passed. The time for faithful, courageous witness is now.
Disclosure
In the fall of 2025, I read a very good article on this very topic. When I tried to find it again, I could not, despite numerous Google searches, AI queries, and asking people who tend to be the know. Remembering the title or author's name would probably have been helpful, but I did not. As I believe this topic is very timely, I created this article using several AI prompts. Should anyone know where the original can be found, please let me know in the comments and I'd be happy to promote it.
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