Dear God, Help Me Be a Good Ally

for the Interfaith Pride Service • Tarrant County Justice Network • June 2026

Dear God, the One Wise and True God besides Whom there is no other – You are great, and You are good, and we belong entirely to You.

O God of our ancestors, I come asking for Your help to be a good ally in this month of Pride in 2026. But first let me confess where I’m standing:

I was born and have my lodging so very near the tippy top of Privilege Mountain. But for one significant body part, every advantage of the cis-het patriarchy accrues to me. Moreover, I am white, and Christian, and a citizen of the U.S. American empire; and truly, in all the world, there have never been people as wealthy and lucky and spoiled and insulated as I.

Galileo Galilei said that the earth and its inhabitants are not the center of the universe – he said You didn’t make the universe that way, and we remember that the church kicked him out for that. But sometimes, from where I sit up here on my ledge of privilege, it’s hard to remember that I am not the center of the universe.

I am not bragging, O God Wise and True. I am confessing, telling the truth about where I come from and where I reside.

So to start with, O God Wise and True, You’re probably going to have to give me a shove every once in a while (metaphorical, of course) to de-center me in my own imagination.

I won’t like it. When I don’t get my way, right away, I’ll complain to the manager; I’ll leave a bad review; I’ll kvetch to my friends on the socials and over lunch that somebody with way less privilege than I will set down in front of me.

But it will be good for me, O God Wise and True, that loss of narcissistic self-involvement. So shove (metaphorically) when You have to, and help me learn to love the loss, the lessening of myself.

And then, when I awaken again to the reality that I am one and only one, not the center of the universe nor the star of Your movie, help me to watch with eyes to see and listen with ears to hear. Show me what You need me to know:

-- Show me the bottomless well of heteronormativity and cisgender-binary normativity that soaks every news article, every sitcom, every sermon and hymn, every medical form, every government agency, every school registration, every trip to the bathroom, every love song on Spotify, every everything.

-- Show me the emotional, physical, and spiritual exhaustion of my queerly beloved friends who endure an onslaught of microaggressions every time they step outside their front door, whose dignity is chipped away bit by bit like those tiny fish that eat the dead skin of your toes but will also suck blood right out of an open blister on your tired feet.

--  Show me the substantial cascade of the loss of rights and respect for LGBTQ+ beloveds at every level, from city councils and county commissioners’ courts to state legislatures and federal agencies – yes, the list is too long and deeply discouraging, and the emails proliferate like mushrooms on my lawn after a spring rain! But help me to remember that allies are meant to hold this stuff so that the people who are targeted by it won’t have to. Make me stronger, O God Wise and True; and yes, I know that if I ask for it I am likely to receive it.

And after You have shown me what I need to see, O God Wise and True, smack me around a little (metaphorically, obviously) if I cry “Overwhelm!” and retire to the safe slacktivism of Facebooking my outrage. Remind me that posting my opinion is not the work, that signing online petitions is not the work, that attending meetings with like-minded liberals is not the work, that doing my little dance of impotent rage while I listen to NPR is not the work. Feeling the feelings is not the work. Help me remember, O God Wise and True.

And then, when I am in my right mind once again, assisted by Your shoves and smacks (metaphorical of course), grant my open eyes a vision of how my privilege can become a crowbar for justice. Show me how to leverage everything I’ve got – money and status, the respectability of titles in front of my name, hours of time that I can release for the real slog of campaigning and calling and convening and contributing for a cause that is not about what’s best for me, but is about what’s best for people I love dearly, and still don’t love as much as You do.

Show me how to get over my fear of talking to people in power. Show me how to keep going when it seems like we’ve tried everything already. Show me how to join opportunities for queer joy, not because the party is for me, but because somebody’s gotta change the toilet paper rolls and keep the cold drinks coming so every beautiful queer soul can keep dancing for as long as they want to.

I should let you go, O God, the One Wise and True besides Whom there is no other. I know you’re busy. But I’ve got just one more thing to ask:

When it’s hotter than the hell I don’t believe in this weekend, way too hot for anything like a “march” or a “festival,” please give my ally-booty one swift divine kick (metaphorical, of course) so I’ll leave the air conditioning behind and show up to support my friends at Pride. I won’t want to, but I will be so glad I did.

Because you will be there, O God Wise and True, shaking your ass and flying your freak flag. That’s why we love You. That’s why I want to be Your ally.

Your name is holy; Your way is good; Your love is the engine that powers the universe. Amen and amen.