When we hear the words “Christian” Dating, we usually think of the type of dating where it is already agreed upon by a community about what you will and will not do. Of course, the focus usually seemed to be ordered towards “Christian” Marriage. There are many forms of Christian dating, some designed to be more ordered toward marriage (courtship) and some which are oriented toward trying on a variety of people and learning more deeply about other people, relationships and the self while on the way to one day finding a marriage partner. I think what all of these varieties of Christian dating have in common is that sex belongs in marriage—therefore what makes this type of dating different than most others is that both partners will not engage in sexual intercourse even though they both may desire that.
I have definitely seen the range of beliefs on this issue. Some Christians think that any physical activity from kissing, groping and non-penetrative sex is permissible. On the other hand, some believe that one should even wait to have their first kiss in from of the congregation when they get married. Now I do not condone some of what is deemed permissible in that first group.
Although I do agree that Christian dating should be ordered in a way that respects that sex is made for marriage, but I do not think that sex alone should be the consideration of what makes “Christian dating” different from “regular dating.” And if I haven’t made it clear, I think that there should be a definite different. I think what is assumed in Christian dating is that you will date someone else who is a follower of Christ, but I don’t think we fully let those implications of “Christian” impact how we date outside of the sex issue. I’m not necessarily going to prescribe what to do, but I think there are some questions we should be asking ourselves.
What does it look like to be Christian and enter into a relationship with someone else? How do we treat someone when we aren’t interested? How do we look beyond ourselves?
What does it look like once we are in the relationship? How does being Christian affect that? Do we learn patience? Do we learn forgiveness? Do we learn the value of other people? Do we get to build up another person? What do we do when we realize our own selfishness? How do we confront another’s selfishness?
And finally, the one that I don’t think we much give any attention to, but how do we act and be Christians when we are breaking up? How do we treat one another? How do we reintegrate back into Christian community? How do we orient ourselves to understanding that although the privilege of American Christianity is perhaps finding another Church or not having to run into an ex, or having the “right” to ignore the other, how do we live into the reality of that we are both members of the Kingdom of God? I think sometimes we brush off this reality by saying, “Oh, we won’t notice the other person while in heaven, so it is ok.” But what does this mean for bodily resurrection? What does this mean for the Day of Judgment?
Ultimately I think as Christians that we are supposed to look different. I think that people should feel like stopping in their tracks and saying, “Dude, what’s going on over there?” Why do they love each other like that?
Showing posts with label Christianity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christianity. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Aloneness, Loneliness and Self-Denial (Self-Denial Part 2)
So if the type of self-denial which Jesus calls for and which Paul attempts to describe is to bring a sense of freedom, what in the world does this mean for someone like me who lives alone? I’ll be honest that I do really try to live and be for others even in the times of my aloneness and my singleness, but it is really easy to either despair when others do not also give of themselves (and therefore making me feel like an unpaid laborer) or to even become self-righteous in my attempts of self-denial. Being alone can make one more prone to loneliness, but it is important to remember that we can also feel lonely while in a crowd, a marriage or a Church setting. So I realized that even though self-denial is meant to be other-oriented, I can still practice and receive the benefits of self-denial when I am alone so that it can tackle my loneliness and hopefully keep me from the edge of despair.
Here is a scenario. I hate doing the dishes. Absolutely hate it! I think that the easy answer in this culture is to say that one day I will be married or live in a communal setting where someone will do the dishes out of love for me. I could say I will do the cooking (which you hate, and I love) and you could do those pesky dishes because you either like it or don’t mind it. I could say that we could do the dishes together and experience the fruit of quality time over something that is menial, exchanging the negativity of something I do not like for something that is life-giving like conversation, presence and co-suffering. Or I could realistically say that I would do the dishes, something I hate, out of love for someone else. I could do that as a means of showing my love by doing something I don’t like or I could do it because I don’t want someone I love to have to do something that I would not want to do myself. All of these things are fine and good in themselves, I do believe, but at the end of the day as a single, living-alone person, the dishes are my responsibility.
Currently my dishes are piled up high in the sink and around the kitchen counter. I have a brilliantly mapped out 2 week plan for cleaning the house on my fridge which many other singles (and not-so-singles) compliment me on. But the reality is that I have never accomplished my brilliant plan! It seems that singleness and living alone gives me the advantage of getting to live solely unto Christ and the Church (not a bad thing at all), but sometimes I still think that it gives me the right to live unto myself in a way that compromises my discipleship. Let me take a step back to say that one of the beautiful advantages of living alone is that if there is a crisis at hand (sickness or death in the family) or something of importance that I need to give my time to (research or volunteering with an organization that builds up the Church and the world) then I do not have to worry about keeping the house clean or even functioning for that matter in way that a home with other people may need. But the point that I am trying to make here is that sometimes we can let the freedom of being responsible only to ourselves be a means to keep us from learning to follow Jesus by diminishing our egos.
Granted I know that sometimes the marriage partnership and even communal living can provide certain benefits and various meeting-of-needs that come with mutual submission and mutual self-denial. I also know that the pain of the single (especially when friends are married and find most of their fulfillment in that relationship, other friendships and duties) is the pain of feeling worn out, giving of yourself all day with no one besides God to pour into you while the rest of the world seems to get the fulfillment of God and others. When we get home, we feel justified in saying, “now it’s time for ‘me.’ I don’t want to go home and do the dishes—and I don’t have to because not doing it affects no one else but me.”
If the road of discipleship is self-denial—especially a self-denial oriented toward others—I am obligated to practicing this virtue not only toward others, but to practice it in a way that orients me toward Jesus. I don’t think that necessarily means I should get off my rear and announce to the world that “I am doing my dishes for Jesus,” that just sounds silly and over-religious. But I do think that there may be something to learning self-control as a fruit of the Spirit. What if I were to catch myself when my mind says, “I don’t want to do that.” Or what if I was able to let Jesus save me from the reality of despair in a world of isolation (even when the Church plays into that reality) by saying “Instead of comparing myself with others, I will not grow weary in doing good, I will not grow weary in following Jesus. Rather, I will do those dishes for the very reason I don’t want to do them—because my self-absorbed nature says that I don’t want to do it.” I think that that is a very different reason than saying that I will “pick myself up by my boot straps and do it,” different than “I’m a strong, confident woman who can take care of myself, thank you very much,” and different from saying “I’m an uber-responsible android who believes in doing things perfectly and I will keep myself busy to avoid feeling the depths of my humanity” This is about self-control and dying to the self.
I’m going to try this over the next few weeks. Of course my gut instinct is to always go hard-core immediately, but I think I’m going to start by doing one task a day that I don’t want to do. It might be doing the dishes. It might be cleaning the litter box. It might be writing an email that I fear writing for some reason. It might be turning off the television. It might be heading to the library to get some work done. It might mean taking the time to cook a healthy meal rather than an adequate one. But I’m going to try it…recognizing when there is something that I don’t want to do (which is good for me) and doing it as a means of expressing allegiance to Christ and denial of self.
**Self-denial doesn’t mean not having an identity. If self-denial is the way of discipleship not only because Jesus and Paul said so, but that Jesus also was the embodiment of this virtue (Philippians 2) then it involves acknowledging what you are giving up and what pains you are taking on. It is knowing how much we love a Snickers bar that brings pain when we give it up. It is someone else knowing how much we love that Snickers bar and therefore give it up for someone else to have and to enjoy which communicates our love for that person. This is the beauty of self-denial. I think my current attitude is finding that we can practice self-denial even when others are not around to receive the benefits. I can practice self-denial in a way that will pave the way for better relationships, a better view of myself (because I am not letting my ego get the best of me…and my chores will be done and my home will be prepared when someone wants to come over and is in need of love or if they want to come and love and enjoy me), and ultimately a cleaner heart that can love God better.
***Also, if my gut reaction is to alienate myself from others because of the stench of their self-absorbtion, tackling my own ego problems can be helpful for me. 1) Taking the log out of my own eye first in accordance to Scripture 2) Loving the sinner, hating the sin 3) Re-establishing relationships 4) Gaining humility by recognizing that I do the very things I condemn others for
Here is a scenario. I hate doing the dishes. Absolutely hate it! I think that the easy answer in this culture is to say that one day I will be married or live in a communal setting where someone will do the dishes out of love for me. I could say I will do the cooking (which you hate, and I love) and you could do those pesky dishes because you either like it or don’t mind it. I could say that we could do the dishes together and experience the fruit of quality time over something that is menial, exchanging the negativity of something I do not like for something that is life-giving like conversation, presence and co-suffering. Or I could realistically say that I would do the dishes, something I hate, out of love for someone else. I could do that as a means of showing my love by doing something I don’t like or I could do it because I don’t want someone I love to have to do something that I would not want to do myself. All of these things are fine and good in themselves, I do believe, but at the end of the day as a single, living-alone person, the dishes are my responsibility.
Currently my dishes are piled up high in the sink and around the kitchen counter. I have a brilliantly mapped out 2 week plan for cleaning the house on my fridge which many other singles (and not-so-singles) compliment me on. But the reality is that I have never accomplished my brilliant plan! It seems that singleness and living alone gives me the advantage of getting to live solely unto Christ and the Church (not a bad thing at all), but sometimes I still think that it gives me the right to live unto myself in a way that compromises my discipleship. Let me take a step back to say that one of the beautiful advantages of living alone is that if there is a crisis at hand (sickness or death in the family) or something of importance that I need to give my time to (research or volunteering with an organization that builds up the Church and the world) then I do not have to worry about keeping the house clean or even functioning for that matter in way that a home with other people may need. But the point that I am trying to make here is that sometimes we can let the freedom of being responsible only to ourselves be a means to keep us from learning to follow Jesus by diminishing our egos.
Granted I know that sometimes the marriage partnership and even communal living can provide certain benefits and various meeting-of-needs that come with mutual submission and mutual self-denial. I also know that the pain of the single (especially when friends are married and find most of their fulfillment in that relationship, other friendships and duties) is the pain of feeling worn out, giving of yourself all day with no one besides God to pour into you while the rest of the world seems to get the fulfillment of God and others. When we get home, we feel justified in saying, “now it’s time for ‘me.’ I don’t want to go home and do the dishes—and I don’t have to because not doing it affects no one else but me.”
If the road of discipleship is self-denial—especially a self-denial oriented toward others—I am obligated to practicing this virtue not only toward others, but to practice it in a way that orients me toward Jesus. I don’t think that necessarily means I should get off my rear and announce to the world that “I am doing my dishes for Jesus,” that just sounds silly and over-religious. But I do think that there may be something to learning self-control as a fruit of the Spirit. What if I were to catch myself when my mind says, “I don’t want to do that.” Or what if I was able to let Jesus save me from the reality of despair in a world of isolation (even when the Church plays into that reality) by saying “Instead of comparing myself with others, I will not grow weary in doing good, I will not grow weary in following Jesus. Rather, I will do those dishes for the very reason I don’t want to do them—because my self-absorbed nature says that I don’t want to do it.” I think that that is a very different reason than saying that I will “pick myself up by my boot straps and do it,” different than “I’m a strong, confident woman who can take care of myself, thank you very much,” and different from saying “I’m an uber-responsible android who believes in doing things perfectly and I will keep myself busy to avoid feeling the depths of my humanity” This is about self-control and dying to the self.
I’m going to try this over the next few weeks. Of course my gut instinct is to always go hard-core immediately, but I think I’m going to start by doing one task a day that I don’t want to do. It might be doing the dishes. It might be cleaning the litter box. It might be writing an email that I fear writing for some reason. It might be turning off the television. It might be heading to the library to get some work done. It might mean taking the time to cook a healthy meal rather than an adequate one. But I’m going to try it…recognizing when there is something that I don’t want to do (which is good for me) and doing it as a means of expressing allegiance to Christ and denial of self.
**Self-denial doesn’t mean not having an identity. If self-denial is the way of discipleship not only because Jesus and Paul said so, but that Jesus also was the embodiment of this virtue (Philippians 2) then it involves acknowledging what you are giving up and what pains you are taking on. It is knowing how much we love a Snickers bar that brings pain when we give it up. It is someone else knowing how much we love that Snickers bar and therefore give it up for someone else to have and to enjoy which communicates our love for that person. This is the beauty of self-denial. I think my current attitude is finding that we can practice self-denial even when others are not around to receive the benefits. I can practice self-denial in a way that will pave the way for better relationships, a better view of myself (because I am not letting my ego get the best of me…and my chores will be done and my home will be prepared when someone wants to come over and is in need of love or if they want to come and love and enjoy me), and ultimately a cleaner heart that can love God better.
***Also, if my gut reaction is to alienate myself from others because of the stench of their self-absorbtion, tackling my own ego problems can be helpful for me. 1) Taking the log out of my own eye first in accordance to Scripture 2) Loving the sinner, hating the sin 3) Re-establishing relationships 4) Gaining humility by recognizing that I do the very things I condemn others for
Friday, January 23, 2009
Overwhelmed
This time I was only able to get through one page on the Wilmington Race Riot of 1898 before I felt overwhelmed. Last time I picked up the material I didn't get too much further than that until I felt not only overwhelmed but deeply disturbed.
As a North Carolinian, as a student of predominantly Southern and African American history (though I am sooo far from being an expert) and as a former history teacher, I am familiar with the Wilmington Race Riots. I'm re-reading material that I have either both read before or have had summarized to me. But this time, it's messing me up. Perhaps it is because I read it as we are studying the Prophets in Old Testament. Perhaps it is because I know longer am looking for the "approved by black people badge" that Dr. Tyson so wonderfully described on our first day of class. Or perhaps it falls around the time we celebrate Human Relations Sunday (which I get a complete kick out of honestly if you study the quirkiness of the white folks who started these days), MLK Jr. Day and the Inauguration of Barack Obama.
As I'm learning to not hate and despise my whiteness, while being more active to confess my race-based sins, I find that it makes me less immune to not just knowing intellectually the pain of injustice, but feeling it in a pathos sense. All of this together raises new questions and emotions that I'm not sure exactly what to do with.
Why is there such a link between active white supremacists and proponents of Education? As a former school teacher I can assure that not only have I seen this in the form of your "typical redneck" folks involved in the Educational system, but I've seen it in more subtle ways in who Jonathan Kozol calls "the people who say that they are with me" like those in the Education Department who tried to physically restrain me from asking Mr. Kozol a question about "apartheid" on our own white-washed campus. And yes, that comment was directed to the "nice Southern women" who had in the name of rules and polite Southern etiquette who had restrained me and thus greatly angered Kozol. Yet I will also say that I left the school system in part because it did suppress me into being that person I didn't want to be--a person who was forced to live scheduled and scattered, expert and executer, not friend but foe, limited by resources, racial and religious tension, reading skills, raucous behavior and raw politics. In the case of the coup in Wilmington, much of the strategies were started and carried out by men famous for supporting Progressive Education.
As a white Christian woman, how do I respond when my race, religion and sex were used to legitimize horrendous acts of violence on the black community and to literally and figuratively emasculate and kill black men? My gut reaction is to cry, wail and throw up (which we learned in Old Testament today was much of the response in Lamentations--thus such a reaction would be appropriate). The answer of laying it on the cross of Jesus almost seems too much. "Jesus, how can you carry and forgive such sin?" Or even if Jesus can handle it, how am I expected to look at my black brother and expect him to forgive people who look like me? If the Christian Church is given the 2nd Great Commandment (according to Jesus) to "love my neighbor as myself," then how am I supposed to love myself as a white person to love my black neighbor and vice versa if correct self-love is supposed to make me rightly love my neighbor? What does this mean for feelings of black shame and white guilt?
I'm in the business and vocation of saying that Jesus is enough. And I truly think that He is, yet I can equally and justly see why others would struggle in this way. But I think the point for me is to situate myself in the sin that Jesus sits in and pays for and (as I believe) endured on the cross. Although I know Jesus is enough, I'm called to wade a little in the water, to linger, to mourn, to grieve, to feel a little of Gethsemane and Golgotha.
Yes, resurrection is coming. Hope is coming. The Kingdom of God is coming. But Jesus waited for it for three days and even made his way down to Hell before He rose in glory. He walked for a certain amount of time (yeah, I should know how long) on the Earth as a resurrected person before returning to heaven to be with the Father. He wasn't afraid to involve Himself in our junk. But he is also present in those of us who believe in Him and also sits at the right hand of the Father and actively involves broken, messed-up people in His work. He calls us righteous because He said we get to have the righteousness that He earned. In the process of making us more holy on Earth, we let go of our earthly junk and live more to the new identity that Jesus gives us: friend, new creation, beloved, righteous, holy, blameless. So how do I as a white person come to terms with the way that God made me? How can/will God redeem my whiteness and the ways my identity has been perverted by the past? How can/will He do this for other races and ethnicities that Psalm 139 says were "fearfully and wonderfully made"?
I have some ideas, but I think it is important for me to spend some time in the in-between area before I start sharing. So come, sit with me where Jesus sits. Sit with me in the brokeness. What shall we mourn over? How shall we respond?
As a North Carolinian, as a student of predominantly Southern and African American history (though I am sooo far from being an expert) and as a former history teacher, I am familiar with the Wilmington Race Riots. I'm re-reading material that I have either both read before or have had summarized to me. But this time, it's messing me up. Perhaps it is because I read it as we are studying the Prophets in Old Testament. Perhaps it is because I know longer am looking for the "approved by black people badge" that Dr. Tyson so wonderfully described on our first day of class. Or perhaps it falls around the time we celebrate Human Relations Sunday (which I get a complete kick out of honestly if you study the quirkiness of the white folks who started these days), MLK Jr. Day and the Inauguration of Barack Obama.
As I'm learning to not hate and despise my whiteness, while being more active to confess my race-based sins, I find that it makes me less immune to not just knowing intellectually the pain of injustice, but feeling it in a pathos sense. All of this together raises new questions and emotions that I'm not sure exactly what to do with.
Why is there such a link between active white supremacists and proponents of Education? As a former school teacher I can assure that not only have I seen this in the form of your "typical redneck" folks involved in the Educational system, but I've seen it in more subtle ways in who Jonathan Kozol calls "the people who say that they are with me" like those in the Education Department who tried to physically restrain me from asking Mr. Kozol a question about "apartheid" on our own white-washed campus. And yes, that comment was directed to the "nice Southern women" who had in the name of rules and polite Southern etiquette who had restrained me and thus greatly angered Kozol. Yet I will also say that I left the school system in part because it did suppress me into being that person I didn't want to be--a person who was forced to live scheduled and scattered, expert and executer, not friend but foe, limited by resources, racial and religious tension, reading skills, raucous behavior and raw politics. In the case of the coup in Wilmington, much of the strategies were started and carried out by men famous for supporting Progressive Education.
As a white Christian woman, how do I respond when my race, religion and sex were used to legitimize horrendous acts of violence on the black community and to literally and figuratively emasculate and kill black men? My gut reaction is to cry, wail and throw up (which we learned in Old Testament today was much of the response in Lamentations--thus such a reaction would be appropriate). The answer of laying it on the cross of Jesus almost seems too much. "Jesus, how can you carry and forgive such sin?" Or even if Jesus can handle it, how am I expected to look at my black brother and expect him to forgive people who look like me? If the Christian Church is given the 2nd Great Commandment (according to Jesus) to "love my neighbor as myself," then how am I supposed to love myself as a white person to love my black neighbor and vice versa if correct self-love is supposed to make me rightly love my neighbor? What does this mean for feelings of black shame and white guilt?
I'm in the business and vocation of saying that Jesus is enough. And I truly think that He is, yet I can equally and justly see why others would struggle in this way. But I think the point for me is to situate myself in the sin that Jesus sits in and pays for and (as I believe) endured on the cross. Although I know Jesus is enough, I'm called to wade a little in the water, to linger, to mourn, to grieve, to feel a little of Gethsemane and Golgotha.
Yes, resurrection is coming. Hope is coming. The Kingdom of God is coming. But Jesus waited for it for three days and even made his way down to Hell before He rose in glory. He walked for a certain amount of time (yeah, I should know how long) on the Earth as a resurrected person before returning to heaven to be with the Father. He wasn't afraid to involve Himself in our junk. But he is also present in those of us who believe in Him and also sits at the right hand of the Father and actively involves broken, messed-up people in His work. He calls us righteous because He said we get to have the righteousness that He earned. In the process of making us more holy on Earth, we let go of our earthly junk and live more to the new identity that Jesus gives us: friend, new creation, beloved, righteous, holy, blameless. So how do I as a white person come to terms with the way that God made me? How can/will God redeem my whiteness and the ways my identity has been perverted by the past? How can/will He do this for other races and ethnicities that Psalm 139 says were "fearfully and wonderfully made"?
I have some ideas, but I think it is important for me to spend some time in the in-between area before I start sharing. So come, sit with me where Jesus sits. Sit with me in the brokeness. What shall we mourn over? How shall we respond?
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Lord of the Flies
So yes, it is Christmas Eve and I'm posting on Lord of the Flies--how unappropriate you may say (and so I thought too). I finished this classic late last night, not being able to stop reading. I'm unsure whether I kept going because it was suspenseful or whether I really wanted to be done with all of the gory details.
I used to like disgusting murder books like the Fear Street series when I was younger, but I wanted to chuck this book across the room many times, furious that it is read by 9th graders everywhere. We live in a culture that is much too violent. Having been a teacher for a year (it feels like a LOT longer though) and having spent a lot of time with children and wanting to continue to do so, I find myself making a lot of choices about my parenting style and reflecting on the style of my parents. Although they could be true duds at times, I look back and want to say "thank you" for the rate at which they sheltered us from television, video games, etc. Of course that didn't last long, but I've found that it has had a lasting effect on me as I want to purge my insides when I spend time with children who spend all of their time that way--especially when they are in Christian homes--nothing frustrates me more than that.
My gut tells me to shelter my kids from gore, war, myopia, apathy, etc. I think that is genuinely one side of the coin when it comes to good parenting--good sheltering. But then as I read through Lord of the Flies, and especially as a much older person, I found so much truth in it. That the true beast, the true savage is the one that lives within us and around us in others. And yes, this is very Gospel, just go hang out with Augustine. So as a parent, I'm also obligated to show the other side of the coin--the ugliness of our true nature. This book can have a positive impression and is very teachable, and I would say don't just let a developing child (by age or mental age) just pick up this book without help navigating it.
The controversy doesn't really end there for me though. At what point is a kid ready to know those hard truths of the Gospel? That this world and even our very selves are destroyed and destructive beyond imagination? I'll be honest, I have no idea. But I can also say that for me, I lived a life that was pretty screwed up to begin with, so it wasn't too much of a shock. But the real shock was seeing the imperfection of perceived good people. When you realize that adults aren't always going to act like adults. But this is one reason why I'm really drawn to those with screwy lives, that can get this end of the Gospel. The hard part is teaching them to hope and dream.
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