The words a church uses — and the images it chooses — send signals before anyone speaks. A queer person scanning your website, your bulletin, or your social media feed is reading those signals in seconds, and they are very good at it. They have had to be.
This isn't about political correctness or keeping up with terminology. It's about precision and care. When a church uses language that erases or others queer people — even inadvertently — it communicates something real about whose presence is expected and whose is merely tolerated.
Look at how your congregation talks about families, relationships, and bodies. Do your bulletins assume all couples are straight? Does your children's ministry talk about "moms and dads"? Does your pastoral care language leave room for people whose families don't look conventional? Does your preaching engage the full humanity of queer people, or does it use inclusive language only when explicitly discussing LGBTQIA+ topics?
The goal is not to perform inclusion. It is to speak in a way that reflects the actual diversity of the people you hope are listening — and the people who are already in your pews, whether or not they've told you.
Who is in your photos? Who leads from your chancel? Whose hands are in your stewardship campaign images? Who is pictured in your welcome materials? If a queer family scrolled through your Instagram or your website, would they see anyone who looked like them? Would they see joy that included them, or a vision of community that required them to imagine their way in?
Representation isn't tokenism. It's evidence.
Language and images are not decorative. They are the first chapter of the story your church tells about who belongs. Make sure that story is true.