As a queer Catholic couple, my fiancée and I had wondered how God might want us to build a family. Then, as we were preparing for our wedding in early 2020, the COVID-19 pandemic caused a global shutdown. By May, the end of the pandemic was clearly nowhere in sight. Many of our friends were isolated, living alone in apartments with little human contact due to social distancing protocols. As work shifted indefinitely to remote platforms, we began to imagine what it would look like to open our home to these friends.
When we returned from our honeymoon, two single friends traveled cross-country to move into our new home with us. Two more friends stayed in their own homes nearby due to personal responsibilities, but they joined our household whenever possible. Throughout that summer, this eclectic group of adults became a household, a community, and eventually, a family. We shared daily life: working side by side, cooking together, praying, and playing games in the evenings. We celebrated one another’s birthdays and grieved one another’s losses. In a time of isolation for many people, we enjoyed a crowded table and a home brimming with laughter.
Chosen families like ours often grow out of isolating circumstances. The SAGE Encyclopedia of Marriage, Family, and Couples Counseling defines chosen families as “nonbiological kinship bonds, whether legally recognized or not, deliberately chosen for the purpose of mutual support and love.” When the traditional family unit cannot provide for someone’s needs, chosen families spring up to fill the gaps.
This is a common experience among LGBTQ+ people, who seek new kinship ties to replace an estranged family or to supplement family relationships limited by queerphobia. A 2010 MetLife study of lesbian and gay Baby Boomers found that 64 percent of those surveyed had a “chosen family,” and they were more likely than the general population to rely on close friends for support. While chosen families often arise from relational deprivation, they become a source of relational wealth.
Jesus’ followers knew about alienation, having become estranged from their homes and families for the sake of the gospel. In Mark 10, Jesus promises the sacrifice will be worthwhile, and he speaks of new relationships that will compensate for those lost. This is not a promise that will be fulfilled only in heaven; Jesus promises a new family “now in this age” (10:29–30). Indeed, in the Book of Acts, we read how the Holy Spirit drew together the early Christians into a community as tight-knit (and dysfunctional) as any family. They called one another siblings (Acts 1:6), cared for their elderly family members together (Acts 6), and supported one another through financial hardship (Acts 11). The SAGE Encyclopedia’s definition of chosen family could have been written about these early Christians. Through chosen family, God fulfilled Jesus’ prophecy of relational abundance for his disciples.
If a family is “deliberately chosen,” who makes the selection? In the case of traditional biological families, it seems straightforward: God chooses each child placed there. But even in those circumstances, God invites human collaboration by giving us choice in the selection of a partner and in family planning measures. Every family is built through the cooperation of human and divine will.
A chosen family is no different. Although we choose to foster these kinship ties voluntarily, we do so from the pool of people God has put in our lives. Our circumstances determine the people who cross our paths. From among those people, we choose whom to befriend, whom to trust, and whom to be loyal to over the years. Through the confluence of our choices and God’s, we cocreate our families with the divine.
Sometimes God brings families together through biology; sometimes through geography, coincidence, or love; and often, through a combination of these. And chosen family does not preclude connection with family of origin. The gospels tell how Jesus defined his chosen family to his disciples, “Here are my mother and my brothers! Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother” (Mark 3:34–35). But later, Jesus’ mother and other biological relatives are counted among his followers (Acts 1:14). For Jesus, the bond of discipleship may have been paramount, but that bond could include biological relationships as well. This mirrors the experience of many people today, whose chosen families include both biological and non-biological ties. What matters most is not bonds of the flesh but bonds of the heart.
When my wife and I prayed to build a family, God answered by providing us with a sense of kinship that continues to endure. Six years later, that chosen family has dispersed to live across three U.S. states and Canada. We no longer share a household, but we remain connected through weekly video calls, regular visits, and a prolific group chat. Like the early Christian community, we are close-knit through the bonds of chosen family, ordained by Christ and cocreated by each of us.
Chosen family is a gift—not only to LGBTQ+ people or to Christians but to all people who have felt the loneliness of isolation and experienced the grace of connection in unexpected places. When we engage with chosen family, we practice finding kinship outside our own tribe, race, and place of origin. When we embrace chosen family, we train for the kinship of the kingdom of God.
This article also appears in the May 2026 issue of U.S. Catholic (Vol. 91, No. 5, page 38-39). Click here to subscribe to the magazine.
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