This post has been on my heart for a while now. It comes with some weight—and I don’t post it lightly. But I also don’t post it in anger or bitterness. I write out of love—for my family and friends, for the Church, for the truth. I hope it will be received that way.
Over the past few years, you’ve probably noticed how much I’ve written about human sexuality—issues like gender identity, same-sex parenting, and transgenderism.
These are hard topics. They touch real people. They touch us. And because they do, I haven’t wanted to treat them casually or toss out slogans from a distance. But I’ve felt more and more compelled to speak clearly—especially because these ideas have not only infiltrated our cultural institutions, but have taken root in the Church itself.
The final turning point for me was personal. For several years, I had been attending a congregation that was a blend of Evangelical Lutheran Church of America (ELCA) and Episcopal USA traditions. I loved the people. I still do. It was a generous, open-hearted community. But over time, I began to sense that the gospel being proclaimed there was subtly—sometimes not so subtly—drifting from the one I knew. The Bible’s authority and Church Tradition was increasingly treated as optional. Christian sexual ethics were reimagined to align with the culture. And then came the moment I could no longer ignore.
One Sunday morning, a woman ordained by one of those denominations—an openly practicing lesbian, whose “wife” was present in the congregation—stood before us and preached as a representative of Christ’s Church. That was the moment for me. I sat there grieving—not out of personal offense, but because something precious was being lost.
This wasn’t merely a difference of opinion. It pointed to a deeper divergence—a fundamentally different understanding of what the Church is, what the gospel proclaims (ie. that Jesus is Lord of the created cosmos), and who Jesus calls us to be.
The gospel is not merely a message of inclusion or affirmation. It is the announcement that Jesus Christ is Lord of all—that through Him all things were made, and in Him all things hold together. As Paul writes in Colossians:
"For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible... all things were created through him and for him. And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together" (Colossians 1:16–17).
This is the gospel: not a validation of our desires, but a call to live in joyful submission to the One through whom the cosmos was made.
After that Sunday, I knew I couldn’t do it anymore—not in good conscience. I couldn’t keep contributing my time and treasure to a church whose leadership had embraced a theological trajectory that I believe is deeply harmful. So I stepped away. And that decision still breaks my heart. I loved those people. I still do.
Love and truth cannot be separated. In the years since, I’ve come to believe that many parts of the Church have failed to speak the truth—especially about the body, about male and female, about marriage and children—and that failure has had devastating consequences. The cultural winds are strong. But the Church was never called to drift with the wind. We are called to be rooted.
I’ve written several blog posts recently, and I want you to know why.
The first was about gay parenting and the Regnerus Study—a work that dared to ask what’s best for children and found answers that challenge the prevailing narrative. It’s not enough to say children are “loved.” They also need a father and a mother. Our policies—and our churches—ought to reflect that truth.
The second addressed the ELCA’s 2025 Reconsideration of Human Sexuality—a document that appears to codify the denomination’s full embrace of sexual revisionism. The very truths that once shaped Christian witness on marriage, the body, and the created order are now treated as “harmful” or “exclusionary.” I couldn’t remain silent.
The third examined the ELCA’s doctrine of “Bound Conscience”—a concept I once thought might preserve theological diversity, but which has become a theological escape hatch. It allows the Church to affirm contradictory truths in the name of unity, while quietly discarding the authority of Scripture. That’s not unity—it’s institutionalized confusion.
I don’t write these things to score points or “win” debates. I write them because someone needs to say what so many faithful Christians—especially in more progressive circles—are afraid to say out loud. I write them because I fear that silence now will only mean deeper compromise later.
I believe the Triune God made us male and female—not as an accident of biology, but as a reflection of something sacred. I believe our bodies matter. I believe Christian love includes a call to repentance. And I believe that our first obligation of love is not to ourselves or one another, but to our Creator.
To affirm someone’s identity apart from the Lordship of Christ is not compassion—it is a tragic abandonment to a path that cannot yield life. And I believe the Church must have the courage to say so, even when it costs something.
In recent years, no phrase has carried more weight—or more ambiguity—within the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA) than “bound conscience.” First introduced in the 2009 social statement Human Sexuality: Gift and Trust, it has become both a theological shield and a procedural tool for managing moral disagreement. But what does “bound conscience” actually mean? And more importantly, is its use in the ELCA consistent with Scripture and the historic Christian tradition?
The ELCA’s Definition: A Plurality of Convictions
In the 2009 statement, the ELCA proposed that faithful Christians may, in good conscience, come to mutually contradictory conclusions about same-sex sexual relationships. That is:
Some believe such relationships are contrary to God’s will.
Others believe they can be faithful expressions of love and discipleship.
According to the ELCA, both groups may be said to have consciences “bound to the Word of God,” and therefore both should be honored within the Church. This framework was presented as a means to preserve unity amid disagreement.
But is this a faithful application of the concept?
Reformation Roots: Luther at Worms
The idea of “bound conscience” is not new. It draws most famously from Martin Luther’s defense at the Diet of Worms:
“My conscience is captive to the Word of God. I cannot and will not recant anything, for to go against conscience is neither right nor safe.”
But for Luther, this was not about subjective conviction. It was about submission—conscience rightly bound by the authority of God’s Word, not by personal sentiment, political pressure, or communal consensus.
To reinterpret “bound conscience” as permission for contradictory moral positions is to sever it from its Reformation foundation.
Why the Bound Conscience Model Fails
1. It Redefines Truth as Preference If one person believes a behavior is sinful and another believes it is holy, both cannot be correct. The Church may be patient in discerning, but it cannot bless contradiction. As Paul reminds the Corinthians:
“God is not a God of confusion but of peace” (1 Cor. 14:33).
2. It Undermines the Church’s Moral Witness When the Church upholds opposing teachings as equally valid, it erodes its ability to proclaim any moral truth. Instead of a prophetic voice, it becomes an echo of the culture.
3. It Was Always a Temporary Measure The ELCA’s use of bound conscience in 2009 was framed as a way to hold diverse views together. But the current reconsideration process—especially Reconsideration #2 scheduled for 2028—makes it clear that the provision will likely be removed. Those who were promised space for their convictions may soon find that space eliminated. That possibility is underscored by the church’s stated rationale for changes already enacted: “in light of public acceptance of marriage of same-gender and gender non-conforming couples.”
The key phrase is “gender non-conforming couples.” The 2009 social statement affirmed publicly accountable, lifelong, monogamous, same-sex relationships. But the new language being recommended goes beyond that. Page 19 of the Human Sexuality Social Statement Draft Edits refers to “lifelong, monogamous relationships of same-gender or gender-diverse couples.” On the same page, it broadens further: “life-long, monogamous relationships between individuals of diverse sexes, genders, or sexualities.” A footnote on that page defines “gender diverse” as encompassing “a wide diversity of identities and expressions in relationships between individuals, including gender non-conforming, non-binary, genderqueer, and transgender persons.”
This trajectory makes clear that the original logic of bound conscience is rapidly being replaced by a new moral consensus.
4. It Confuses Unity with Uniformity True Christian unity is grounded in shared confession, not in the suppression of moral clarity. The New Testament calls for unity in truth (Eph. 4:11–15) 1 And he gave the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the shepherds and teachers, to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ, until we all attain to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to mature manhood, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ, so that we may no longer be children, tossed to and fro by the waves and carried about by every wind of doctrine, by human cunning, by craftiness in deceitful schemes. Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and held together by every joint with which it is equipped, when each part is working properly, makes the body grow so that it builds itself up in love., not unity despite its absence.
What True Conscience Requires
The Christian understanding of conscience is not private or self-referential. Biblically, the conscience is formed:
By the Word of God (Psalm 119:105)2Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.
Through the community of faith (Acts 15:28)3For it has seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us to lay on you no greater burden than these requirements: that you abstain from what has been sacrificed to idols, and from blood, and from what has been strangled, and from sexual immorality. If you keep yourselves from these, you will do well. Farewell.”
In submission to the Holy Spirit (Romans 9:1)4I am speaking the truth in Christ—I am not lying; my conscience bears me witness in the Holy Spirit— that I have great sorrow and unceasing anguish in my heart.
A truly bound conscience is not simply sincere. It is correctly tethered—anchored to God’s revealed truth. That truth, on matters of human sexuality, is consistent through Scripture and affirmed across centuries of Christian witness.
Conclusion: Truth Cannot Be Voted On
The ELCA’s deployment of “bound conscience” may have been well-intentioned, but it has become a theological smokescreen for unresolved contradiction. Conscience must indeed be honored—but only when it is bound to the truth.
The Church is not free to pronounce both light and darkness as equally valid. As Jesus said:
“If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness!” (Matt. 6:23)
Let us call conscience back to its proper source—not to sentiment, not to social trends, but to Scripture. For only there can it be truly bound, and only there can it be truly free.
Children thrive in the context of stable, intact biological families—an ideal that remains statistically and morally significant.
In 2012, sociologist Mark Regnerus published a bombshell study that challenged the prevailing narrative in academic circles about same-sex parenting. His findings? Children raised by same-sex parents, particularly lesbian couples, experienced significantly worse outcomes on numerous metrics compared to those raised by their married, biological mother and father.
The backlash was immediate and severe. Regnerus was accused of bigotry, his study denounced as pseudoscience, and attempts were made to have it retracted. But more than a decade later, the dust has settled enough for a deeper look. And what a surprise (to some) that deeper look brings.
A Study Stress-Tested by Time
Science advances through testing—Regnerus’s study held up under millions of analytical variations.
The recent multiverse analysis conducted by Cornell sociologists Cristobal Young and Erin Cumberworth takes a new and rigorous approach to contested social science studies. Their technique? Run every possible reasonable permutation of analytic choices—literally millions of combinations—to see whether a study’s conclusions hold up across models.
It’s like subjecting the study to every imaginable stress test. And Regnerus’s study passed.
Not one of the more than two million significant models contradicted his core finding: children raised in intact biological families consistently fared better than those raised by same-sex parents.
To put that in perspective, this kind of consistency is almost unheard of in social science research, where findings often vary widely depending on how the data is modeled.
What Was the Regnerus Study, and Why Did It Matter?
Regnerus’s 2012 New Family Structures Study (NFSS) surveyed nearly 3,000 young adults, making it by far the largest and most representative dataset available at the time on the topic.
Unlike earlier studies—which had tiny sample sizes (often fewer than 50 children) and often relied on parents self-reporting at Pride events or through gay-themed media ads—the NFSS used a random national sample. It included 248 individuals who had been raised by parents in a same-sex relationship.
His findings were sobering:
Children raised by lesbian parents fared worse on 25 of 40 outcomes
Those raised by gay men fared worse on 11
The problems were wide-ranging: depression, lower educational attainment, greater reliance on public assistance, higher unemployment, more criminal involvement, increased sexual abuse, and unstable relationships.
The Immediate Backlash
The response to Regnerus was not scientific critique—it was ideological suppression.
The study ignited fury. Hundreds of academics and activists called for its retraction. Regnerus’s reputation was dragged through the mud.
But rather than retreat, he did what good scientists are supposed to do: he made his dataset public and invited others to analyze it.
Two major critiques emerged:
Cheng and Powell argued that many individuals Regnerus classified as raised by same-sex parents had spent little time in such households.
Michael Rosenfeld of Stanford insisted that Regnerus hadn’t adequately adjusted for family transitions, which are known to negatively impact child outcomes.
Regnerus countered that instability wasn’t a separate factor to isolate—it was intrinsic to same-sex parenting patterns.
The Critics Were Stacking the Deck
Young and Cumberworth found that both critiques had made analytical choices that reduced sample sizes—making it harder to detect statistical effects. They also committed what the authors call a “key mistake”: focusing only on whether the effects were statistically significant, rather than measuring how large the effects were.
In plain terms, the critics said, “We didn’t find a difference,” but they didn’t report whether their methods actually suppressed real effects.
The LGBT parenting effect was not only still there—it was strong and persistent.
When the new analysts combined family instability and parental structure in the same models, they found that:
Both factors independently contribute to negative outcomes
The problem wasn’t just instability; same-sex parenting itself mattered
Their conclusion: Regnerus’s central finding is not the product of statistical games. It’s a stubborn social fact.
The Problem Isn’t the Data—It’s the Ethics Police
Regnerus wasn’t condemned because his methods were flawed. He was condemned because his findings were morally unacceptable to the academic gatekeepers.
As sociologists Judith Stacey and Timothy Biblarz—both of whom support same-sex parenting—admitted in their review of the literature: “Ideological pressures constrain intellectual development in this field.”
Weak studies claiming “no difference”—even with tiny, biased samples—were waved through. But Regnerus’s robust, random-sample study was met with outrage.
For example, Nathaniel Frank called for a peer-reviewed study’s retraction simply because its findings were “irresponsible.” Not incorrect. Not unsound. Just inconvenient.
What happens to science when truth becomes subordinate to ideological comfort?
Enter Jessica Bates
Jessica Bates was barred from adopting because of her Christian convictions. The Ninth Circuit rightly intervened.
A recent case shows how this ideological pressure is spilling into public policy. Jessica Bates, a widowed mom of five in Oregon, was barred from adopting because she couldn’t, in good conscience, affirm gender ideology.
The Ninth Circuit rightly found that Oregon’s policy likely violated her First Amendment rights—both free speech and religious liberty.
These kinds of ideological litmus tests are spreading in progressive states. And they are excluding faithful Christians from the foster care and adoption systems—hurting the very children who most need stable, loving homes.
Is Bias Against Christian Agencies Widespread?
Yes. Consider this partial list:
Catholic Charities in Boston, San Francisco, and Illinois shut down adoption services rather than violate their beliefs.
Philadelphia’s foster care contracts were rescinded over similar issues.
Ideological conformity is being prioritized over the welfare of children. That should concern all of us.
A Word to Fellow Christians: This Isn’t About “Being Nice”
Christian compassion must remain anchored to biblical truth—especially when it comes to the care of children.
Many well-meaning Christians feel torn on this issue—not because they lack conviction, but because they want to be compassionate and avoid offense. That instinct is admirable.
But for Christians especially, our compassion must be tethered to Truth, it must be rightly ordered. If we say we care about vulnerable children, then we have to be willing to ask some hard questions about what truly serves their long-term well-being.
Are we prioritizing what’s best for children—or what makes us feel better about being inclusive and affirming toward adults? Have we considered whether the assumptions behind some of the arguments for same-sex adoption actually hold up?
Do we really believe that if gay couples are not permitted to adopt, these children will simply be left without homes? That assumes no other families—especially traditional ones—are willing to step forward, which is a questionable and pessimistic assumption.
And are same-sex couples disproportionately adopting the most difficult-to-place children—those who are older, have special needs, or come from severely traumatic backgrounds—or, like many prospective parents, do they generally prefer younger, more adoptable children?
If simply increasing the pool of potential adoptive parents is the highest good, then why do we draw any lines at all? Why ask questions like: Should society allow adoption by men who think they are women? Or by unmarried throuples? Or by persons with histories of instability? The very fact that we do ask these questions reveals that we intuitively understand—at some level—that not every arrangement is equally good for children. So the real question is: what standard are we using to decide?
We need a rational, child-centered adoption policy—one that is guided by a clear set of priorities, with the well-being of children at the top of the list. Policies should ask: What kind of environment best supports a child’s development? What family structure most reliably offers stability, love, and the complementarity of male and female parenting? These should be our guiding questions—not adult preferences or ideological conformity.
And we should not be ashamed to say that the ideal remains a married mother and father.
Christian Teaching on Marriage and Parenting
Biblical anthropology and Church tradition affirm the unique significance of a mother and father in child formation.
From a biblical perspective, marriage isn’t primarily about adult fulfillment. It’s about covenant, fruitfulness, and forming children into the image of Christ.
“Male and female he created them…” (Gen. 1:27)
Every child has the right, where possible, to a mother and a father. Church tradition has long affirmed this—and so does the data.
As Christians, we must remember: we are not our own. Our bodies, our desires, our families—all belong to God. Adoption and foster care are sacred callings, not platforms for adult affirmation.
The Stakes Are High
Let’s not forget what’s at stake here. When Christian individuals and faith-based organizations—like Catholic Charities—are excluded from the adoption and foster care space simply because they uphold traditional moral convictions, it’s not just anti-religious bigotry. It’s also a disservice to the very children we claim to care about.
We can’t say children matter most while simultaneously banning some of the most stable, loving homes from even being considered—just because they don’t conform to a particular ideological agenda. Traditional Christian belief is not a disqualifying liability.
So, to my Christian brothers and sisters I say: Let’s not waffle. Let’s not shrink back out of fear of being unpopular. The call to speak the truth in love does not vanish simply because our culture finds that truth inconvenient or offensive. In fact, those are precisely the moments when the Church’s voice is most essential.
The data is on our side. More importantly, so is the truth.
Children deserve the best we can give them. And that means standing for what is good, even when it costs us.
