From an ex-lesbian: Why Biola University's Side B culture needs to change

By Elizabeth Woning, Op-ed contributor Tuesday, January 06, 2026

The recent closure of The Dwelling at Biola University — a support group for students identifying as LGBT or experiencing same-sex attraction — marks the end of a chapter in a difficult struggle to reconcile biblical orthodoxy with contemporary campus culture.

As someone who walked away from a lesbian identity after encountering the full Gospel, I am sympathetic to the administration's challenges and deeply concerned about the implications of its approach. President Barry Corey deserves credit for seeking to provide a safe environment for struggling students. His vision of "grace and truth" resonated with many: upholding biblical sexual ethics while treating LGBT students with compassion and dignity. The problem, however, wasn't the vision — it was the execution.

Over more than a decade, Biola cultivated what has become known as a "Side B" campus culture. This approach, championed by figures like Wesley Hill and Preston Sprinkle, affirms fixed sexual orientation while maintaining that same-sex behavior is sinful. Students were encouraged to identify as "gay Christians" committed to celibacy — a position that sounds compassionate but carries profound theological and pastoral implications. The Side B model differs fundamentally from what I experienced in my own journey. Jesus didn't invite me to manage my lesbian identity through celibacy. He called me to repentance and transformative surrender. The difference is not semantic — it's the difference between a relativistic compromise and the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

The university has consistently prioritized institutional positioning over theological clarity. By refusing to clarify terms like "sexual orientation" and "gender identity" that conflict with biblical anthropology, by admitting students who held gay-affirming views, and by platforming Side B voices while marginalizing those who testify to genuine transformation, Biola created a culture where students couldn't discern what the institution actually believed. The result? Read the Instagram comments on recent Chimes articles about The Dwelling's closure. Current students and alumni express profound confusion. Some believed Biola was becoming more affirming. Others felt betrayed by messaging about "love and acceptance" that seemed at odds with the school's statement of faith. This wasn't an accident — it was the inevitable fruit of trying to accommodate multiple contradictory positions under one roof.

These young people are earnestly seeking to honor Christ while navigating profound struggles. They deserve compassion and genuine pastoral care. The confusion they feel is understandable — they were doing their best within the framework they were given. The failure was institutional: a failure to provide clear, biblical discipleship from the beginning.

Here's what I learned through my own journey: it is demeaning (even dehumanizing) to be excluded from the Gospel's call to repentance and sanctification simply because of LGBT identity. Love means having the courage to call sin what it is and proclaim the possibility of real change rather than settling for managed sexuality. Today, I don't have a "mixed orientation marriage." I fought for my identity as a woman so I could stand among other women with no difference, no exceptional sexual "identity." Most precious to me, I am a child of God — a new creation in Christ. But I might have missed this joy if well-meaning Christians had offered me only a Side B compromise.

Biola faces a crucial decision that extends beyond campus policies. The question at hand isn't whether to be kind to struggling students — of course, they should be. The question is whether the American Psychological Association's framework or biblical counsel will define what love looks like. The university's Rosemead School of Psychology holds APA accreditation, which requires accepting sexual orientation as fixed and innate. This creates an inherent tension with a biblical worldview that proclaims all things are made new in Christ. Perhaps preserving that accreditation while maintaining theological integrity is impossible. If so, Christian educators must decide what they value most.

We are in the midst of an exciting modern-day Reformation. America's Christian educators have a unique opportunity to lead courageously toward biblical orthodoxy — not with harshness, but with genuine compassion that refuses to withhold truth. Those of us who have left LGBT culture, with the support of believers who stood by us, are eager to forge this new path.

President Corey is right that our cultural moment demands a new approach. But that approach cannot be a middle way that leaves students confused. It must be the ancient path — calling people to die to self and rise with Christ, trusting that He is powerful to save completely. The closure of The Dwelling presents an opportunity. Will the "new model" Biola promises offer genuine biblical discipleship? Or will it be another attempt to balance incompatible positions? Students deserve to know that transformation is possible, that sexual orientation is not fixed, and that the Gospel offers something far greater than managed sin.

To the students who participated in The Dwelling: those of us who have walked this path understand your confusion and pain. You were not wrong to seek community and support. But I pray you will not settle for less than what Jesus offers — not celibacy as the endgame, but complete transformation and the freedom to embrace your identity as a new creation. You deserve mentors who will walk with you toward that fullness, not just help you manage your desires.

I'm grateful for the shocking encounter with Jesus that was made possible for me 20 years ago. A young man's courage changed my life. Now Christian universities must summon similar courage — to look beyond social critics, accreditations, and the fear of cultural disapproval — to the individuals unwittingly caught in a cultural web that only Christ can free.