Walk into any major city and you'll see the signs. Some are neon-bright with rainbows, claiming a divine love that embraces everyone without exception. Others are handwritten on cardboard, quoting ancient verses to argue that certain lives are an "abomination." It leaves a massive, heavy question hanging in the air for millions of people: Does God hate gays? If you’re looking for a simple "yes" or "no," you’ve come to the right place—and also the most complicated one.
Religion isn't a monolith.
✨ Don't miss: Finding an Authentic Brazilian Restaurant in Raleigh: What Most People Get Wrong
The answer you get depends entirely on who you ask, which book they’re reading, and how they interpret language that hasn’t been spoken natively for thousands of years. Honestly, the tension between traditional dogma and modern inclusive theology is the defining religious debate of our century. It’s messy. It’s emotional. And for many people, it’s a matter of spiritual life and death.
The "Clobber Passages" and Historical Context
When people argue that the answer is "yes," they usually point to about half a dozen specific verses in the Bible. Scholars often call these the "clobber passages" because they’ve been used to, well, clobber the LGBTQ+ community for generations. You’ve probably heard of Leviticus 18:22, which calls male-on-male sex an abomination. Then there’s the story of Sodom and Gomorrah. For centuries, the standard take was that those cities were torched because of homosexuality.
But things aren't always what they seem on the surface.
Dr. Mark Jordan, a professor at Harvard Divinity School, has spent decades pointing out that the term "homosexuality" didn't even exist when these texts were written. It’s a 19th-century invention. When Leviticus was drafted, the concerns were often about ritual purity, staying distinct from neighboring pagan tribes, and ensuring a high birth rate for a small nation. The "abomination" (or to'ebah in Hebrew) often referred to something that was "taboo" or out of its proper place in a specific cultural system, like eating shellfish or wearing blended fabrics.
Take Sodom and Gomorrah. If you actually read the prophet Ezekiel (specifically Ezekiel 16:49), he spells out exactly why God was angry. It wasn't about who was sleeping with whom. It was because the people were "arrogant, overfed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy." It was a sin of radical inhospitality and systemic greed. Somewhere along the way, we swapped "neglecting the poor" for "hating gay people." That’s a pretty huge pivot.
💡 You might also like: How to Cool Salmon: The Simple Tricks for Better Texture and Food Safety
The Shift Toward Inclusive Theology
In recent years, a massive wave of theologians has started looking at the character of God rather than just isolated snippets of text. They argue that if God is defined by love—as 1 John 4:8 suggests—then a "theology of hate" is a contradiction in terms. This isn't just a "liberal" trend; it’s a serious academic movement.
Reverend James Martin, a Jesuit priest and author of Building a Bridge, has become a prominent voice within the Catholic Church. He doesn't necessarily rewrite the Catechism, but he insists that the church must treat LGBTQ+ people with "respect, compassion, and sensitivity." He argues that God’s love is the baseline.
Then you have the United Church of Christ, the Episcopal Church, and the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. These denominations have looked at the same Bible and concluded that the answer to does God hate gays is a resounding no. They see gender and orientation as part of the vast, diverse "Imago Dei"—the image of God. To them, diversity isn't a flaw in creation; it’s the point.
What about the New Testament?
Paul’s letters in the New Testament are usually the next battleground. In Romans and 1 Corinthians, Paul mentions "men who have sex with men." Conservative interpreters see this as a permanent ban.
However, many New Testament scholars, like David J. Lull, suggest Paul was likely condemning specific exploitative practices common in Rome, such as pederasty (older men with boys) or temple prostitution. Paul didn't have a concept of two consenting adults in a committed, loving, same-sex marriage. He was writing to specific people about specific problems in the first century. Applying his words to a modern committed couple is like trying to use a map of ancient Rome to navigate New York City. It just doesn't fit the reality of the terrain.
The Psychological Toll of the "Hate" Narrative
We can’t talk about the theology without talking about the humans.
When people grow up believing that the creator of the universe finds them repulsive, the results are devastating. The Trevor Project has consistently reported that LGBTQ+ youth who live in highly religious, non-affirming environments are at a significantly higher risk for suicide and depression. If the "fruit" of a religious teaching is death and despair, many theologians argue that the teaching itself cannot be from God.
This is the "Good Fruit" test. In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus says you can tell a tree by its fruit. A good tree doesn't produce rotten fruit. If a specific interpretation of "God’s will" leads to self-harm and the breaking of families, it’s worth asking if that interpretation is actually the one God intended.
Finding a Personal Path Forward
So, where does that leave you?
If you’re struggling with this, know that you’re in the middle of a global conversation that is still evolving. There is no single "God" that everyone agrees on. There is the God of the fundamentalist, the God of the mystic, the God of the social justice warrior, and the God of the silent, contemplative monk.
✨ Don't miss: Why Roadrunner Restaurant New River AZ is the Wildest Pit Stop You’ve Never Visited
Most people find peace by moving away from "clobber passages" and toward a "hermeneutic of love." This basically means that if you read something in a holy book that seems to contradict the core idea of unconditional love, you prioritize the love. You recognize that humans wrote these books, and humans are limited by the time and culture they live in.
Actionable Steps for Navigating Faith and Identity
If you are currently wrestling with these questions, here is how you can practically move forward:
- Audit your influences. Look at the "fruit" of the people you listen to. If a preacher or influencer makes you feel smaller, unlovable, or ashamed of your existence, stop giving them your attention. Seek out voices like Matthew Vines (author of God and the Gay Christian) or Rachel Held Evans, who offer rigorous, faith-based defenses of inclusion.
- Search for "Open and Affirming" communities. If you want a spiritual home, don’t settle for a place that merely "tolerates" you. Use tools like the GayChurch.org directory to find congregations that explicitly state they welcome LGBTQ+ people into all levels of leadership and life.
- Separate God from the Church. This is the hardest one. Many people have been "de-churched" because of trauma. It’s okay to acknowledge that people—even well-meaning religious ones—can be profoundly wrong about God. Your relationship with the divine doesn't have to be mediated by a group that doesn't see your value.
- Study the languages. If someone quotes a verse at you, look up the original Hebrew or Greek. Use a resource like Blue Letter Bible. You’ll often find that the English words used in modern translations (like "homosexual") were added much later and don't reflect the original nuance.
- Focus on the "Red Letters." If you're a Christian, look at what Jesus actually talked about. He spoke at length about greed, hypocrisy, and caring for the marginalized. He never mentioned homosexuality once. Not a single time.
The idea that God hates anyone is a human projection. Most modern scholarship and an increasing number of global faith traditions suggest that the divine is far more interested in how we treat each other than who we love. The shift toward an inclusive understanding of God isn't just a political move; for many, it's a return to the core message of grace that religion was supposed to be about in the first place.