I had this whole post planned out in my brain. I was going to write about Brock Turner, the two cyclists, the mysterious victim, the judge, the anger I feel over the situation and how I believe the incident should be responded to.

Until Sunday morning, June 12, 2016.

I was in bed, slowly waking up when I saw a glimpse of a headline “Pray for Orlando” and all I could think was “Dear God…”

It was not until a few hours later when I found myself in my favorite coffee shop, reading the details and holding back tears that were starting to well up in my eyes.

100+ individuals shot at, gunned down or critically injured at a local Orlando gay bar.

The more I read, the more I thought about those in the LGTBQ community that I know and love dearly, and all I could think was that it could have been any of those beautiful individuals that I call friends and family

Because of hate, because of the inability for someone to allow someone else to make the choice that they themselves might not make, these beautiful humans were slaughtered.

As someone who identifies as female and is generally attracted to males, I cannot begin to fathom the emotions that my friends and the LGBTQ community are feeling as a whole. I do not wish to speak for or on behalf of those most affected. Rather, I speak as simply someone who is seeking to understand, to mourn, to shed a light on hate and to continue to work to spread love and more love where there has been hate.

For those I have spoken with, gay bars, such as Pulse, have been safe havens for many years. Those secretly questioning their sexuality or those fully embracing theirs could lose themselves in a crowd and community and not have to worry about being judged. People I respect have compared gay bars to the LGTBQ community as church is to many Christians, a somewhat home.

For many in the LGTBQ community, these bars and nightclubs were a place to not live in fear and to be encouraged to be themselves wholly, whatever that might have looked like for them.

This all was true until this weekend…until the idea of home became a place of fear and terror.

These individuals were not faceless numbers, rather as I read on Tuesday afternoon, victims were parents and uncles and lawyers and college students...

All these lives taken because of their sexuality.

Arguably, as a statement to the rest of the LGBTQ community, they were viciously slaughtered.

Even as I write these things, all of me wants to stand up and scream on behalf of the senseless deaths and the fear that this horrific event has caused to spread to those I adore.

It takes everything in me to not freak out over my LGBTQ friends, to allow the space for our grief to be varied and complex. If we are honest, right now, I would love to just pull all of my folks close and shield them from the hate and violence instead of working to listen more and allow them to guide how I respond.

For many, such as one of my dear friends that I spoke with, this is not an isolated event. Rather, the Orlando shooting just happens to be a more public event that mimics the level of targeted violence against LGBTQ individuals that has occurred unassumingly for many years. For the LGBTQ community, basic human rights is far from being achieved, for many are still forced to hide behind facades for their own safety.

In addition to violent acts of hate over the years, the LGBTQ community has had to endure much verbal hate and shunning from, specifically, the Christian community. On a less overt scale, yet no less impactful, they are forced to process verbalized or unspoken messages of disdain as they say, “We love you, but," such as the campaigns of “love the sinner, hate the sin” has promoted. Unfortunately, this mentality has caused the shooting in Orlando to be used as a “reap what you sow” object lesson, and sadly that is even the more “lighthearted” response that I have heard spoken.

Forget the lives lost.

Forget the families who lost their children, siblings and significant others.

Forget the little boy who is now without his dad.

Rather, much of the Christian community has taken to being silent or to using this tragedy to promote their own agenda.

And if we are being honest, that is so wrong, and to put it bluntly, I know it is not how Jesus would have acted.

The Jesus that I see is one of love and grace. He is the one who grieved, ached and loved deeply without boundaries. I cannot imagine that the Jesus who I love would be one that would begin speaking out against the LGBTQ community, especially in this time of grief and fear.

We could argue back and forth about whether the Bible condemns gay relationships or whether it doesn't take a stand, but to be honest, it is irrelevant to how this tragedy should be responded to by Christians.

“Rejoice with those who rejoice. Mourn with those who mourn” ~ Romans 12:15

Beautiful individuals are no longer living and breathing. The living are forced to bury their families, children and friends. For some, this now means an existence consisting of thoughts of suicide or actions of self-harm. For others, this means never getting the chance to say the words they always wanted to say.

Those who are gone will never see another sunset or dance with the person they love. They will never taste an omelette or know who Rey’s parents are. Their lives have been extinguished horrifically and senselessly.

Yet, many do not see Orlando as such. Rather, this is an opportunity to push an agenda, for Christians to say that they believe the LGBTQ community is sinful, for the NRA to pull their guns closer and for the public to ask for better gun control. It seemed as soon as the scene was secured, the back pocket wish lists were pulled out and individuals began to argue.

I must stop myself and say that if we are honest, I say all of this with a humbled heart. It was a long, embarrassing road that took an old friend calling out my crap to learn to grieve with those I might disagree with and/or do not understand. It was not the LGBTQ community, but rather something that I was horrifically glazing over and not seeking to understand. I believed that it was easier to file away opinions and paint things as black and white, rather to have enough love for there to be grey. Though it might be seen as the harder road, it is what is asked of not only Christians, but also what makes humanity so complex and beautiful.

For those reading this, I ask that you stand in solidarity with the LGBTQ community. You do not have to agree with the choices of your fellow members of humanity. Rather, please grieve with us as we weep over the lives that were lost, or please be silent.

This is not the time to promote your own opinions on the LGBTQ community.

Rather, one’s platform of straight privilege should be used to fight for the protection of these beautiful humans. They are hurting and are fearful, and it is unloving to start spouting off opinions on morals. The LGBTQ community is aching, Orlando is crying and the world has become a bit less safe. Please mourn with those of us who are aching, whether from the place of personal loss or solidarity. Allow for grief to look different, and learn to give the space needed for the grieving process.

To my LGBTQ friends and family, I love you. I am grateful every day that you are alive. You are brave. You are loved and seen. I stand aching with you, and pray that in the darkest moments, you might find the strength to press forward and know that there is always hope where there seems to be only fear and terror.

To both my straight and LGBTQ friends and family,

May the darkness have no place where we flood love.

May our fellow humans find light where fear has spread hate.

May we learn to mourn with those that are hurting and be silent when it is so desperately needed for there to be silence.