S-E-X

I figured after discovering that I have “Borderline Christian Values,” I might as well publish this post that I have been working on – thoughts on sex. And God. And the church. And reality. Because somehow in my mind, those things all get very messy very quickly.

Over the past 6 months or so, I have been having some very interesting conversations with friends and acquaintances – both Christians and Non-Christians alike. I am not trying to be some cliche writer that goes straight to the topic of sex because it’s controversial, but legitimately it seems to be a  grey area that begs questioning. I’m not referring to the logistics about sex (we can turn to Cosmo for those details), but more about the topic of sexuality. About what it looks like to be a woman or man and be sexual. What it looks like to be single and sexual. What it looks like to love God and be single and sexual.

The Christian Words of Wisdom: JUST DON’T.

I think I can speak for a lot of us who grew up in the Christian church when I say, sexuality can be an overwhelming subject. It can be hard to talk about, or hard to ask about. For most of my Christian life, I thought that “Good Christian Girls” loved Jesus, and didn’t really do much else than kiss their boyfriends. And then, in my teens I really struggled with guilt because I realized that there is a lot of grey area between kissing and sex, and no one prepared me to hash that part out.  The church’s only message to be about sexuality was “DON’T.” It said nothing about who I was as a sexual being, and how to think or feel about it. I assumed that I was wrong for wanting to do more than kissing, and moreover that I was probably the only Christian girl in the world that felt this way.

And now, in my mid-twenties I find it interesting that most of the people with really good attitudes toward sexual identity that I have met – did not grow up in the church. They are people who were never told “JUST DON”T,” but instead “It’s all good – you are sexual, embrace it.” And somehow, in their twenties these people seem to have a good mentality toward their sexual desires – regardless how much sex they are choosing to have or not have.

I remember the first time I had a  friend admit out loud,  ”I’m a super horny person. Most guys can’t keep up with me.” She loves God. And she wasn’t ashamed. She just said it like it was no big deal. She had come to Christ later in her twenties, and so she wasn’t indoctrinated in the “Shame Belief.” As I was hearing this, I felt like I had been hit by a train. The thought was so surreal. “Is it ok to like sex like that?”

College Group Sex.

Yesterday I was looking through keywords that people use to find my webpage. Apparently, college group sex is the way to get here.

I was shocked…but only for a moment. Because then I saw that the second thing that people Google to find my page is Borderline Christian Values.

I’m glad my writing has such a profound impact on the world.

Dealings In a Sad World.

I’m not writing this to whine. Let me start by saying that. I’m not looking to nag, or to complain. I think I have just been noticing things lately that make my heart heavy – and the more and more incidents I discover, the more I cannot help say to myself, “Wow, our world is full of sad things.”

Let Love Rule.

…..Right,  But How Do We Do That?

Monday night Hot Nerdy Blond and I drove up to Hollywood to grab dinner with a best friend of mine who lives out of state. A friend recommended the Saddle Ranch Chop House in Hollywood – which ended up being one of the funnest venues I have been to in a long time. Karaoke, bull riding, great food, and waiters that literally go above and beyond. Yet, I digress. What struck me about Monday night was that at one point in the evening, I looked out the window, and Sunset Blvd. was completely filled with people. Protesters, carrying signs, banging drums, chanting, full marching bands – all showing their disapproval for the recent Supreme Court ruling regarding Prop 8. Signs reading, “LET LOVE RULE” and “I DO.” or messages expressing how gay individuals had the right to get married too. Or at least be in love to. Or something to that effect (I’m sorry, I’m not the most politically correct person on this subject).

What stood out to me more than any one thing was not the subject of homosexuality, or even sexuality at all. It was just an overwhelming sense of sadness. I get it that marriage is supposed to be sacred, and that the Bible does have a lot to say on the matter. I also get it that homosexuals are people too. And they do fall deeply in love too. So…I think I love the idea of letting love rule. I love love. It’s amazing to be in love. And homosexuals shouldn’t be denied any of it. But, how do we do that?  And it made me so sad. It was like something deep inside of me had to turn and question – to say – “You know what? Something isn’t right. I don’t know what the right answer is. I don’t know how God would show love in this situation. I don’t know what the balance of “God’s Rules” vs. “God’s love and Grace” is. But I do know that this breaks my heart.”

Watching the people flooding through the street was one of the most impacting things I have seen in a long time. And as conflicted as I can feel on the matter sometimes, I couldn’t help but want to cheer them on. Cheer them into fighting against the sadness.

Jesus Salesmen

Let me bring you into a little event that happened at my church a few weeks back. I go to a fairly large church, so there are a few hundred people at each service. It was several weeks before Easter, and at the end of the message, a “Call to Action” was appropriate. Essentially, it was your typical altar call. The pastor was saying, “Now is the time, if you know that there is a call on your heart…bla bla bla.” The lights were dark. The music was pensive and emotional. They asked everyone to bow their heads and close their eyes. And then comes the part that I hate. They asked people to stand up if they wanted to receive Jesus in their hearts.

One guy, way in the back, rose to his feet. Everyone peeked through the dark to see if anyone was standing. The man was in his mid fifties or so, and from the looks of it (it was dark mind you) he seemed to be a person who normally isn’t in a church. The pastor stalled the music a bit longer. He kept talking, coaxing others to join and stand up. More music. More tension. Music. Tension.

Finally, the pastor begins talking to the one man who is standing. He asks everyone to give a round of applause for this guy who has decided to give his life to Jesus. The room erupts with cheering, shouting, whistling and applause. I almost lost my lunch.

“You Take Me the Way I Am…”

Hotter, Nerdier, Blonder is coming home this week. I have kept most of the updates with him off the Internet, but he went away on a pretty lengthy business trip.  We have continued to talk on the phone while he has been gone, but he is returning within the next few days.

Now I bring this up not merely for the story element, but also because his return is about to signal a change in the relationship thus far. I have been so busy being excited to plant a big ole kiss on him in the airport that I forgot that after that picturesque moment, reality kicks in – we are in the beginning of a relationship.  And while that signals butterflies and floating around on pink clouds, there is another part of new relationships that isn’t quite so pleasant.

New relationships mean that you say to a person, “Yes I think I will decide to let you into who I really am.” I suppose it’s a decision to be discovered.  And from experience, sometimes this means that you feel like you are standing on the front lawn in your underwear holding a sign that says “Please still like me.”  No clothes to slim you or hide things. Just you and your chonies. And your hopes that they don’t walk away.

Napkin-Thoughts.

In my room I have a file. And in this file I have all sorts of “Scraps of Ideas.” They are napkins, receipts, bulletins, cards, or anything flat enough to write on when inspiration hits. I like to think of this file as the “harvesting ground” for my ideas. Inspiration comes to me in the form of little seeds. Inside the file, they grow and ripen into robust thoughts, so they can be plucked from the “Idea Tree” file and written down.

Earlier this week I was looking through the file for some places to go with this next post. I pulled out a scrap of napkin that had blue ink scribbled front and back.

This napkin spelled out sudden clarity about my plans vs. Gods plans. In that moment, I clearly was understanding that:
1) I don’t always know best.
2) Sometimes uncomfortable change is good.
3) If you demand life only on your own terms, often times you will miss the point
4) God’s master plan in this whole life is to be an epic storyteller.

 

Tick Tock Tick Tock…

What is that sound? It’s the sound of a maternal clock coming to life.

[Insert shocking gasps and horror screams here].

I had a great conversation with a few of my girlfriends over breakfast Saturday morning (Is anyone beginning to notice that most of my amazing conversations seem to take place over breakfast?) I have to admit, a significant portion of my thoughts come from these gals – they never cease to increase the flow of blog materials.

In the midst of a conversation about Easter eggs and white-picket fences, we got to talking about family: getting married, when we wanted to get married, if we were ready, if we wanted to be moms, if we were ready to be settled little families, or if we still wanted to be single and romping around. 

 It was interesting to note that of the five or so women in the room, most of us really wanted a family – and sooner rather than later. However, it took a little bit of conversation before any of us just came out and said “Yes! I can’t wait to get married and have my own family.”  It was almost like admitting that you like Brittany Spears – a guilty little thought in the back of your mind that you wouldn’t admit unless you knew you were in like-company.

Mirror Mirror on the Wall…

Mirror Mirror On the Wall…

This January I began something awful.  I began a process of a slow awakening. The more awake I am becoming, the more I hate what I am finding.  But at this point, I don’t know what’s worse – facing the ugliness or deciding to go back to sleep.

In January I was leaving a friend’s house late at night and driving down the 5 Freeway. We had just had a conversation about our friendship. It turns out that even though we’ve been friends for years, we weren’t quite as close as she’d thought we would be. She was disappointed that we hadn’t grown closer over the years, and I was grappling to explain the distance between us.

I couldn’t dodge the fact that while my friend was explaining her disappointment, I compulsively felt the need fix her feelings on the spot. I wanted to differentiate myself from our other friends that had also hurt her feelings, and show her with my actions “I’m not like them. I’m different. See, let’s still be friends.”

The ride home from her house was probably the most difficult car rides that I have had in a long time. I kept thinking, “What is it that makes me want her to like me so badly?” And suddenly there was the truth staring me in the face.

Christian Guys vs. Non Christian Guys – Part Two

Unbeknownst to me, I found a nerve. To be a bit honest, it has been slightly difficult to decide how to respond. I suppose part of being a writer is asking good questions. However, at the same time, there is a person under this writers jacket – she has the tendency to be a peacemaker. I want everyone to agree, and it’s been uncomfortable to think about leaving thoughts unsettled.

All that to say, I do appreciate your feedback. Actually, I would argue that at some level – I need it. It’s important to me that what I write resonates with people – and I thank those of you who have jumped into this conversation.

Jesus and Cocktails.

One of the major comments that I received from both men and women alike when responding to the ideas of meeting guys in bars is simply this: “Can’t great guys go to bars too?” As so aptly commented by Megan, most of us hang out in bars at some point or another, whether it is once in a while or every weekend. It would seem logical then to realize that going into a bar doesn’t transform a person into something evil. And sure, nice girls and boys are still nice when they are sitting on a bar stool.

In fact, I love going out. I wouldn’t say that I have a party lifestyle these days, but I couldn’t imagine being with someone who had a problem going to clubs, or didn’t drink at all. A perk might be that they could be my designated driver all the time – so that might not be half bad; except for the part where you are always the one making an ass out of yourself – I at least like taking turns being the drunken retard.

Breakfast with Lesbians.

Friday morning I was having a breakfast meeting with a friend of mine who is starting a non-profit with a few women I know. Her organization loves my writing style, and has decided to give me the gift of forming their communication initiatives. So over coffee and computers, we began to discuss our very business oriented agenda.

Somewhat unexpected to us, our business became pushed aside as two girls walked into the house (I’ve just recently moved, and I am currently living with a friend). Both girls were young, just barely in their twenties. One had a mostly shaved head, except for strategic patches of longer hair, making a perfectly good Mohawk. Her girlfriend had pink hair with neon yellow sections. One had a tattoo on her forearm, and both of them had facial piercings. They greeted us and asked for my host, saying that they’d made plans for breakfast.