Pull Up a Chair - Thoughts from Justin Ryan, Southern Gospel Sissy

Published in the July 2026 Edition

If you're reading this, we probably haven't met yet.

I'm Justin Ryan—a singer, speaker, writer, and gay Christian who refuses to choose between faith and authenticity. For years, I've traveled churches, Pride festivals, conferences, and community events sharing stories and songs about faith, hope, loss, love, and the God who stubbornly refuses to give up on people.

These days, I'm also honored to be helping lead BALM Ministries alongside my friend and mentor Marsha Stevens-Pino, the groundbreaking songwriter behind For Those Tears I Died. This year, BALM celebrates forty years of ministry, advocacy, music, and creating space for LGBTQ+ people of faith.

I also host a weekly online devotional called Southern Gospel Sissy. Every week I sing a song, tell a story, and try to remind folks that God's love is usually a lot bigger than the boxes we've built around it.

So before we go any further, let me tell you a little about myself.

I grew up in Kentucky in a conservative church family. My father was a church pianist. My grandfather was a preacher. I learned to sing in church pews and revival services. I learned Bible stories before I learned multiplication tables.

I also learned pretty early that I was different.

For a long time, I thought faith and authenticity were enemies. Many of us were taught that we had to choose between being loved by God and being honest about who we are. Some of us spent years trying to become someone else. Others spent years hiding. Many spent years believing the lie that God had somehow made a mistake.

What I've discovered is that God doesn't make mistakes nearly as often as people do.

Now, before some of you start nervously eyeing the exit because I used the word "God," let me reassure you of something.

I'm not here to preach at you.

I'm certainly not here to tell you who to love, who to be, or how to live your life.

The truth is, I've spent much of my life on the receiving end of that kind of religion, and I know how much damage it can do.

What interests me isn't preaching at people. It's listening to them. It's finding the sacred in ordinary lives. It's telling stories about resilience, hope, community, and the surprising ways grace shows up when we least expect it.

If faith comes up in this column—and it probably will—it's because it's part of my story, not because I'm trying to make it yours.

That's probably the theme you'll hear most often in this column.

I believe God shows up in places religion sometimes overlooks.

I find God among caregivers sitting beside hospital beds.

I find God among parents learning to love their children more deeply than their prejudices.

I find God among drag queens raising money for charities, lesbians who cared for dying gay men when much of the world looked away, transgender people brave enough to tell the truth about their lives, and church folks willing to ask hard questions instead of settling for easy answers.

In other words, I find God where I think Jesus found God—in people.

The last few years have taught me that lesson in ways I never expected.

In 2024, my husband Scott died after a long battle with cancer. I spent months as his caregiver. If you've ever walked that road, you know it changes you. Grief has a way of stripping away everything unnecessary. It teaches you what matters. It teaches you what doesn't.

One of the things it taught me is that life is far too short to spend it arguing about who deserves a seat at God's table.

The older I get, the less interested I am in winning theological debates and the more interested I am in helping people heal.

That's why I write.

That's why I sing.

That's why I'm honored to be joining the pages of Maryland OUTloud.

In the months ahead, we'll talk about faith. We'll talk about family. We'll talk about loss and hope and resilience. We'll talk about LGBTQ+ history and the pioneers who helped build the roads many of us now travel. We'll talk about what it means to follow Jesus in a world that often seems determined to forget what He actually said.

Some weeks we'll laugh.

Some weeks we might cry.

A few weeks I may step on some toes.

That's okay. Southern Gospel Sissy has never been about making everyone comfortable. It's been about making room for people who rarely feel welcome.

So wherever you're coming from—whether you're a lifelong churchgoer, someone who left religion years ago, someone trying to find your way back, or someone who simply stumbled onto this column by accident—pull up a chair.

There's room for you here.

One of my favorite verses says, "People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart." (1 Samuel 16:7)

Maybe that's what I've been trying to learn all along.

Not how to fit into someone else's expectations.

Not how to win an argument.

Not how to make everybody agree.

Just how to see people the way God sees them.

And if I've learned anything from this journey, it's this:

The people we've been told are outside God's love are usually standing right in the middle of it.

To view Justin’s Southern Gospel Sissy series, visit justinryanmusic.live.