Continuing our series of reflections on the Nicene Creed from the perspectives of varying members of our diverse Diocesan community:

My Reflection on the Nicene Creed as a Lesbian 

Our Christian Creed should be focused on Faith, Love, and Light 

The contributor has chosen to remain anonymous 

The beginnings of my faith 

Proclaiming my faith through the Nicene Creed once carried deep meaning for me. Each time I said those words, it felt like a declaration of my love for God — a love so immense it could barely be contained. Yet even then, there were tensions. As a woman, I sometimes struggled with the language that seemed so male-centered. And, if I’m honest, standing among the congregation wasn’t always easy either. Churches are full of real people — flawed, beautiful, sometimes frustrating — and there were days I didn’t particularly like the person next to me as we recited those familiar lines. But that’s part of the journey, isn’t it? We are all works in progress. 

Despite all that, speaking the Creed together grounded me. It reminded me that faith is our shared foundation — that beneath our differences, we’re all just trying to find our way. We long to know Jesus more deeply, to feel the Spirit moving in our lives, and to live in the way we’ve been called to live. And really, it’s simple at its core: don’t get distracted by theological debates or the latest religious trends. Keep your focus on God. 

Our one true calling is to be love and to share love. That’s hard enough — but it’s also beautiful. It asks something of us every moment of the day, challenging us to live with compassion and humility, and yet it also offers rest: the deep, reassuring rest that comes from knowing we are loved beyond measure. God’s love is infinite, and it embraces us all equally. 

When we stand together and say, “I believe in God,” we affirm that equality and acceptance. For me, that’s where the real power lies — not just in the words themselves, but in the shared intention behind them. 

The start of an arduous but life affirming journey 

And then, I came out. 

I knew that my honesty about who I am would be difficult for some in the church. But to me, it seemed so simple — wasn’t this all about love? How could anyone use their energy to judge or exclude, when the Gospel calls us to embrace? Once, a man from the congregation told me he “should’ve known” I was gay because I had my nose pierced — apparently, that was a “sign.” I didn’t even bother to respond. Some things speak for themselves. 

When I started spending time within the LGBTQ+ community, I discovered something I hadn’t fully expected: love. Acceptance. A welcome that asked no questions and demanded no explanations. Yes, it’sa messy, imperfect community — just like any other. But back then, I found people who simply said, “You’re welcome here.” That, to me, was church. 

The next steps in my journey 

The phrase “Light from Light”  continues to be powerful for me. To believe that we are made in God’s image and that God is light. Not just physical light, but the unseen, powerful presence of love that illuminates everything. I imagine us saying the Creed together, hearts joined, and that divine light growing brighter as it connects us. 

To learn and to experience — that is the heart of faith. As we are led, we change; as we open, we are amazed and in awe of all that we have been given, and all that we are entrusted with. 

How easily we fall into the trap of assuming that our version of faith is the only one, that others must somehow be “brought” to where we are. But what if, instead, we were simply open? What if we focused less on what we think needs to change in others, and more on how we can love them better — exactly as they are, right now? Too often we use scripture as a shield, building arguments to protect our own comfort, defending our walls instead of letting them fall. Yet love doesn’t need defending. It doesn’t need to be justified. It only needs to be lived and shared. 

Sometimes I wish the Nicene Creed included more statements about the power of love and kindness and pointed us to the way Jesus continually showed us to live. That, to me, is the essence of belief: to live as love, to see the divine light in every person, and to trust that God is still at work in each of us, drawing us toward one another with compassion. 

As a result of the tediously draining, destructive and distracting rows about LLF, the Anglican church as an institution proclaims that I am not welcome to marry in church.  So 15 years ago, I got married in a Council office – precluded from the joys of being in a sacred space with my mum vicar being permitted to conduct the ceremony.  The place I so passionately worshipped in and proclaimed the Creed wasn’t open to me.   

When I say the words of the Nicene Creed, I wish it could again be with the same burst of love I felt when I was younger.  That they challenged me rather than reminded me of the despair, loss of community and disempowerment I feel.   

This reflection can be downloaded here:  A Personal Perspective on the Creed