"By the way, God loves you" by S. Dcn. Susan Rossi
Jun 26, 2026
My name is Susan Rossi. I'm a synodical deacon at St. Michael's in Amagansett. I was set apart on April 14, 2018. It was one of the most important days of my life.
I love telling my faith story because it always reminds me that God has gotten me this far and God is not letting go now.
Not too long ago I heard a rabbi comment on how people speak. The rabbi said, "When someone speaks from the heart their words have a way of making it into the hearts of others."
I was just a young girl when I realized that I was different from other little girls. I don't mean that I was a tomboy, although I was. Lots of girls are tomboys.
I was different.
What I liked was different, my thoughts were different, and my feelings were different from other little girls. I didn't have any idea why I was different—I just knew I was.
As I grew up, those differences also grew and my feelings grew, they got stronger. It was uncomfortable and confusing and very, very scary.
It was also very lonely to be different, to be on the outside without really knowing why.
I kept my feelings a secret. I never told anyone how I felt. I was alone with my secret and my secret continued to grow.
Sometime in high school, I realized and fully understood that I was different because I like girls the way other girls like boys. My secret became harder and harder to deal with.
My secret, well my secret became a lie.
My life was one big secret lie. I went on that way, all through high school.
I also fell in love with poetry in high school and I wanted to be an English teacher. But when I got to college I majored in Physical Education.
Not because I thought my Brooklyn accent might be a conflict or because I was good at sports but because I thought I might find girls who were different. Girls who were tomboys like me.
Turns out some stereotypes are a little true.
I now know that God put me right where I needed to be at the time.
I started to become more comfortable with my secret and began to share it. That's when I learned who my real friends were. Some stuck around but most did not.
It took my parents years to accept my being gay. We never really discussed it. It was just the way it was.
They never knew or understood the pain or the loneliness that I was feeling.
But in some small way, it felt that maybe I was one of the lucky ones. They seemed to love me more than they hated homosexuality…
Well, as long as we didn't speak about it or say those words… gay, queer, or God forbid lesbian.
I became a teacher and then an asst. prin. I was a really good educator. I was well respected by students and my colleagues. But, professionally, I kept my secret and my lie for many years.
When I met and fell in love with my wife, Debbie, my secret all but ended.
I came out to my education friends at my 50th birthday party.
It took 50 years but I finally got rid of my secret once and for all.
Or so I thought… there was still one important thing missing in my life.
I was raised Catholic, went to church on Sundays, believed in and loved God.
In our church, children were meant to be seen and not heard. There was no one there to talk to about my secret.
As I got older I tried other churches. It was all the same.
From then on, the only time I went to church was when I encountered an open door to any house of worship. I would go in, and God and I would spend a little quiet time together. It became a habit that I never broke to this day.
The fact is, I didn't feel accepted and loved in the Catholic Church. I could be seen but not heard. I still had my secret.
Of all the places not to be wanted!
I wanted a place to worship with a community of people of faith who made me feel welcomed and loved.
Was this never to be for me?
How was I to hang onto my faith. How was I to continue to embrace hope. Surely I was right. Didn't God love me?
When my wife, Debbie, and I were in Israel we visited Nazareth.
The tour guide showed us an extraordinary sculpture of Mary in the courtyard of St. Joseph's church. It was a statue of the annunciation…
I had never seen a depiction of Mary where she wasn't beautifully draped in blue with a peaceful look on her face. This sculpture depicted Mary in a much different way. She had no beautiful blue robe, no halo or crown on her head, no peaceful look.
Her arms were wrapped around herself as if for protection and she had a look of fear on her face. At first I was troubled by the scene. Then it hit me.
Imagine the fear. Not only does this angel appear but he's telling Mary… you're going to become pregnant and have a son. And Mary hasn't done anything. She's just a girl of maybe 14. She's never been with a man. She's engaged to this great guy Joseph. When he finds out it's all over.
Of course she was afraid, probably terrified.
But then Mary embraces her faith. With 3 simple words. "Let it be."
Mary trusted her faith in God and her fear was transformed into peace.
Whatever it was that Mary had, I needed, I wanted!
It was on that tour of Nazareth, where I encountered that amazing statue of this courageous young woman, that I found my strength.
I would not give up on hope. I knew God loved me and somewhere there must be a faith community that would love me too.
Hope did not disappoint.
One day, a friend told us about St. Michael's, a Lutheran church no less. So, we decided to attend worship there one Sunday. Me, my Jewish wife and 2 Catholic friends. We sat close to the aisle, in case we needed to get out quickly.
During the sermon, the pastor, a woman, spread her arms wide and said something like this….
"God so loved the world, God so loves the whole world… not just Christians, not just Jews, not just men or women, not just white or black people, not just Latinos, not just gay or straight people.
But the whole world!"
Then she began to point at different people sitting there in the church saying, "God loves you, and God loves you, and you, and you, and you. God loves the whole world."
BAM, mic drop, I said to myself, "God loves us, God loves me."
I always knew God loved me and now I was sitting with a church congregation and they know God loves me too.
My lifelong secret and lie died totally and completely on that Sunday. We've been there ever since. That's where I found that missing piece, a loving place to worship.
When Pastor spread her arms out wide during that sermon she was merely an extension of the loving and welcoming arms of the wonderful people at St. Michael's.
The loving, welcoming arms of God.
God has always been at my side. God has been with me to experience all the happiness and to give me strength to get through those difficult times.
This lesbian, in all my gayness, is a beloved child of God.
I am proud to be a queer Lutheran because I am loved and accepted completely and lovingly for exactly who I am.
And by the way… God loves you.