I attended several of my gay friends’ weddings to people of the opposite sex, and I sat across from them years later when they grieved over the end of their marriage. They might have changed the way they identified, but they felt a longing for intimacy with someone of the same sex that simply could not be met by their spouses. Some white-knuckled their way through the rest of their lives in these marriages, often with secret hookups that left them deeply ashamed, sometimes suicidal. Others eventually ended their marriages, and they despaired over the pain they caused their spouses and children.

These stories never show up in the short videos on ex-gay ministries’ websites. Ex-gay organizations create emotional short films with earnest young people who talk about hope and redemption, and then they quietly remove the videos when these very same people come out years later with the truth about themselves that they tried to suppress. In fact, that’s what happened to me.

Equally important, the narrative that people find “freedom from homosexuality through Jesus” fails to acknowledge the existence of the thousands of people who identify as L.G.B.T.Q. Christians. Sexual and gender minorities do not have to choose between their faith and queerness: Both parts of their complex identities belong, and the two actually inform each other. I’m engaged to a woman named Amanda Hite, and our shared passion for Jesus is central to our relationship.

In addition to the countless Christian denominations that affirm the beauty of same-sex relationships, there are also organizations like The Reformation Project teaching a message of inclusion in conservative Christian communities. They were moved to support same-sex relationships because of their understanding of Scripture. While many conservative Christians actively work against the flourishing of L.G.B.T.Q. people, they don’t represent all Christians.

I feel compassion for the people who will attend the Freedom March on Saturday. The videos on their Facebook page feature young people who say they left a lifestyle of anonymous sex, drug addiction and despair. But I have a lot of L.G.B.T.Q. friends, and I don’t know any who would describe their lives in that way. My community comprises queer pastors, psychologists, professors and entrepreneurs. Some of them are married, some are celibate, many are sober, and all of them are extraordinary human beings.

I can’t help wondering whether the young people in the videos found themselves in destructive cycles because of the shame they carried from the teaching they heard growing up. It’s hard for me to believe they would seek to rid themselves of their God-given desire to love someone of the same sex if it weren’t for the leaders in their communities who fail to consider the possibility that they’re wrong about the value and dignity of L.G.B.T.Q. people made in the image of God.

As several Christian leaders have already said: If the gospel someone preaches is not good news for the marginalized — for people of color, those with disabilities, immigrants and L.G.B.T.Q. people — then it’s not good news for anyone. The message the organizers of the Freedom March preach is certainly not good news for people like me. But I have found the Gospel of Jesus — the one who drew near to the outcasts and touched the despised with his own hands — to be very good news to me as a lesbian Christian. I want those attending the Freedom March to know this good news is for them, too.