A Tale of Two Singers, Part Three -"Undivided" Vicky Summary Version

Vicky Beeching's Story

Despite still being very unwell, Vicky kindly checked and approved this blog .Thank you, Vicky! For the full version of this piece please click here.

Vicky Beeching’s story is one the Church would do well to learn from. It shows us how when the Church rejects LGBTQ+ folk’s sexuality and need for a same-sex life-partner, we breach Jesus’s ultimate law of love (Mark 3:4) by doing deep harm and destroying life. By stark contrast, Brandi Carlile's story shows that when the Church affirms queer people and their chosen life-partners it does great good and preserves life in abundance. (see link here )

Until 14 August 2014, Vicky Beeching was “the poster girl for evangelical Christianity”—a worship leader whose songs filled churches across the UK and US. Her music was intelligent, heartfelt, and deeply rooted in Scripture. Songs like Yesterday, Today and Forever and Glory to God led thousands in worship. But that day, aged 35, she came out publicly: “I’m gay. God loves me the way I am.” And just like that, evangelicals stopped singing her songs.

Just four years earlier, I'd heard her headling Spring Harvest’s Big Top, fresh off her most successful album, Eternity Invades. Her velvet voice and theological depth made her a rising star.

But behind the scenes, Vicky was already battling serious autoimmune disease—likely triggered by the severe stress of hiding her sexuality. The evangelical teaching she’d grown up with taught her that being gay was an “abomination”. That teaching, embraced (it seemed) by everyone at Spring Harvest, was quietly destroying her life.

Vicky’s early life seemed idyllic. Born into a loving, secure, charismatic evangelical family, she was the granddaughter of missionaries and raised in a vibrant church community.

She excelled academically, eventually earning a theology Master degree from Oxford.

In contrast, Brandi Carlile—born just two years earlier—grew up in poverty and chaos, never finishing high school.

Yet by their early 40s, Brandi was a successful, happily married mother of two, while Vicky was seriously ill, single, and unemployed. The difference? Two radically different church teachings about gay sexuality.

Like Brandi, Vicky knew from her early teens that she was gay. At 14, she fell deeply in love with a female friend—but dared not even speak of it. Her church taught that such feelings were shamefully sinful, so she buried them deep. She tried everything to “pray away the gay”—persistent prayer, confession, fasting, "exorcism". Nothing worked. She was stuck: gifted with a bright mind and beautiful voice, but “cursed” to be gay.

Unlike Brandi, Vicky wasn’t a rebel. She was the “perfect pupil,” not just at school but in striving to live out her faith with integrity. She threw herself into her studies and music, leading worship at Oxford Vineyard Church and dating eligible Christian men—without success. One night, she saw two women kissing, one of whom she’d previously heard testify to being “freed” from homosexuality. That moment strangled any lingering hope that her own sexuality could change.

Her theology studies at Oxford gave her tools to re-examine Scripture. She saw how the Church had revised its interpretations in light of new evidence—on evolution, slavery, women’s roles. She found a scriptural case for affirming gay relationships. But she couldn’t embrace it. She felt called to a mission in Christian music and her career would depend on “morality clauses” that forbade any admission of gay identity. She had to choose: her mission or her sexuality? She chose her mission—and paid dearly for it.

After an internship at her Vineyard church, Vicky signed a UK Christian music contract, and was then taken up by a US label. She moved to America and toured for seven years, leading worship to congregations of thousands, and releasing three successful albums.

But the life was high-stress, lonely and rootless. She had no spouse, no safe place to share her heart. She kept secretly fell in love with women she couldn’t touch. One male musician fell in love with her. When she rejected him without daring to explain why, he turned violent—threatening rape and murder. How much pain could have been avoided if the Church had affirmed same-sex marriage ?

Listening now to Vicky’s lyrics, you can hear the hidden anguish:

“Search me, O God… find any way in me that does not reflect your purity.” (Search Me) “Brokenness has brought me to my knees… I can barely see You through my shame.” (Undivided Heart)

These were cries from a soul torn between her God-given identity and the Church’s condemnation. She longed for Jesus to change her sexuality or to fill the void so completely that she wouldn’t need human intimacy. She threw herself into the warmth of God’s arms to escape the cold loneliness of her place in the human world. But she wasn’t gifted with celibacy. She was wired for intimate human companionship—and wired gay. Like Brandi, she needed a same-sex partner. But unlike Brandi, she couldn’t embrace that truth without losing everything.

In 2009, the poison of her repression finally broke through.

After watching a friend she secretly loved get married, Vicky stood on a train platform, contemplating suicide. “I knew if I moved another inch forward… it could all be over.” At the last moment, something held her back. Soon after, she noticed a white scar on her forehead. Doctors diagnosed scleroderma—an autoimmune disorder usually triggered by serious psychological stress.

She returned to the UK for treatment and resolved to come out publicly in five years. On 14 August 2014, she did. Her music career ended, but God repurposed her life for good. She became a leading voice for LGBTQ+ equality in the church and beyond, campaigning for inclusion and sharing her story, especially through her brilliantly brave autobiography, Undivided. The title came from her song Undivided Heart, once a prayer to be freed from her orientation, now a declaration of wholeness: “A place of wholeness where I could be myself, totally undivided.”

Coming out finally freed her to seek the life-partner so long denied her. She found a partner, but the damage from years of repression made intimacy difficult, and the relationship didn’t last.

Some family members embraced her sexuality; others struggled. The wider evangelical community’s response ranged from “love the sinner, hate the sin” to condemning her to eternal damnation. But her testimony changed lives. LGBTQ+ Christians found hope and acceptance. Straight evangelicals became affirming. God used her suffering to bring healing to others.

Yet the stress of coming out and the backlash took a toll. Her autoimmune conditions worsened—chronic fatigue, brain fog, joint pain. By the time her book was published, she was diagnosed with ME. Critics called it God’s punishment. But doctors suggested it was likely triggered by the extreme stress of her coming-out and the vitriolic church reaction which forced her career change. If sin caused her illness, it was the Church’s sin.

The demands of media work after her book proved too much. By 2020, she withdrew from public life. Her health continued to decline. She was later diagnosed with Ehlers-Danlos syndrome. As she shared recently on Facebook, she’s spent 90% of the last five years confined to one room, often unable to stand for more than a few minutes.

Vicky’s story echoes that of the Suffering Servant of Isaiah 53. She paid a high price for the good she brought to others. One day, she will “see the light of life and be satisfied” and there will be “no more crying or pain” (Revelation 21:4). But that future hope doesn’t excuse the Church’s failure. Jesus came to bring abundant life now (John 10:10), including the gift of marriage for those not called to celibacy (Matt. 19:10–12; 1 Tim. 4:1–3). For gay Christians like Vicky and Brandi, that gift can only be fulfilled in a same-sex partnership.

When the Church affirms same-sex marriage, it passes Jesus’ test of Mark 3:4—doing good and saving life.

When it rejects it, it fails that test—doing harm and destroying life. In Vicky’s case, it destroyed her health, her career, and nearly her life.

Still, there is hope. Vicky recently shared that despite her fatigue, she felt inspired to play guitar again—maybe even write a song. And her music remains a gift to the Church. Her lyrics now shine with new meaning. My own church has been blessed by regularly using her fantastic songs in worship. I'd encourage yours to do the same. And let Vicky’s story inspire us to build a Church where every child of God—gay or straight—can live undivided!

If you’ve got Spotify have a listen here to my own Vicky playlist:https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7mXWPeUmZxDwY4bWLSkVU7?si=lBFXQxo8S8CT_3SCpGt_tQ&pi=-zs_zaRZTUCDL 

And follow this link to Vicky’s autobiography, Undivided, Coming out, becoming whole and living free from shame: https://amzn.eu/d/0nN0mqW

Above image is by permission of Brachers LLP