Tuesday of Holy Week: Secure at the Seams

For the ones who are always examined, but never unravel

Psalm 46:1–3
“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear…”

Some days it feels like I’m being watched from every angle—especially as a gay pastor. Like someone’s always waiting for me to trip up, to get it wrong, to confirm some bias they’ve been holding onto. Maybe that’s just imposter syndrome whispering again. But maybe it’s also real—because when you live openly, unapologetically, and queerly, people often feel entitled to examine your life under a microscope.

I’ve been learning how to stay grounded in the tension. To choose when to speak, and when silence says more. Sometimes my inner voice tells me to hold my ground with quiet strength. But when someone’s words or actions threaten harm—not just to me, but to others—especially those already pushed to the margins? I find my voice. I speak. I flip the table if I have to. And I do it with love. With clarity. With conviction.

It’s like the way I backstitch at the beginning and end of each seam when I’m piecing a quilt. No one sees those extra stitches. They’re small, hidden, quiet. But they’re what hold the quilt together. Without them, the blocks can unravel, the rows can pull apart, and the whole thing starts to fall apart at the edges. That backstitch is a simple act of grounding—of making sure what I create holds.

Lately, when I need refuge, I return to my quilting studio. Not always to sew. Sometimes just to sweep, reorganize, or run my hands over the fabric. That space reminds me who I am. It anchors me. It’s more than craft—it’s sanctuary.

Psalm 46 says, “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.” I’m starting to believe that the God who strengthens us doesn’t always show up in lightning or thunder. Sometimes she shows up in a quiet stitch. A steady voice. A moment of clarity in the middle of being questioned. Sometimes she’s the one whispering, “You are stronger than they think. And you are whole.”

And maybe that’s the most faithful thing we can do on days like this: backstitch our seams, hold our center, and trust that what we’re building—our truth, our joy, our whole queer and holy life—will hold.

A Benediction for the Scrutinized and Steady

May the One who sees your hidden seams
bless every quiet act of resistance—
every word held in grace,
every truth spoken with love,
every stitch made in stillness.

May you know that strength doesn’t always shout.
Sometimes it backstitches.
Sometimes it breathes.

And when the world leans in too close,
may your spirit not flinch.
May your joy hold its ground.
May your wholeness stay stitched.

You are grounded.
You are beloved.
You will not unravel.

Amen.