The P.E.A.C.E. Plan

This is a teaser vid. Go to the website, get yourself something to eat, get comfortable, and watch the whole sermon.

Communal Sex

To borrow from Lauren Winner's Real Sex: The Naked Truth about Chastity (who is building upon Wendell Berry), "Sex is communal rather than private, personal rather than public."

It's time for another shout out to my community, both among those who meet together with me in the same building on Sundays, and those in the Body spread out near and far. Being 27 and single -- and chaste -- is not easy. I certainly couldn't do it alone, so fortunately, I don't have to. I'm surrounded by married and unmarried, young and old, very young and not old, but not... well, you get the idea. And these people invite me into their lives (and I invite them into mine). And so, I have community; community with other single believers who take the exhortation to live lives worthy of Christ's sacrifice and calling seriously, which includes, for various reasons, chastity; community with married Christians who live with a likewise intentional desire to align themselves wholly to Christ, which also includes chastity -- instead of abstaining from premarital sex and all that includes, abstaining from extramarital sex and all that includes. Even being in community with my 1st graders impacts my calling for this time of celibacy: conversations like, "How do you liiveee!?", but also simply serving, so I'm not constantly thinking on myself. Furthermore, living at home, with Mom and Dad, is helpful -- not living alone, and not simply sharing space (house), but sharing life (home); the same was true of L'Abri.

So, it's easier.

My church doesn't do everything perfectly. The sermon illustrations are still about marriage and family 99 percent of the time, which despite my belief in the skills of transference, can still be largely alienating. People -- married people -- still ask me things like, "Well, do you want to get married?" and are baffled when my answer is "yes and no" and not one or the other: like, "Come on, Renea, it's simple, either you're called to be single or you're called to be married; either you want to marry and will make choices accordingly, or you don't, and won't." I want to be like, "Really? How long have you been 'called' to retire, rather than 'called' to work?" But I can't help but smile to myself about how funny and fatalistic we get about romance; we forget our vow to one another in marriage is "until death do us part," not "happily ever after;" that even marriage is seasonal, just like the rest of life, "not because of divorce, but because of death" (139), and ultimately, because of our New Life upon Christ's return.

But they do a lot of things well. They don't ask me upon first seeing me, "Are you seeing anyone?" They ask after weeks, months even, usually as the conversation lends itself, rather than out of the blue. I appreciate that. I appreciate it on two levels: one, it's a tiresome question when it's always the first one you hear, no matter how much I try to tell myself, 'They just think you're cute and likable, and want to know, naturally, who you're dating.' :) and two, I like being asked about my life, even the really personal stuff, by people who've earned the right to do so. I mean, OK, when it comes to confessing, I don't always like it, but who doesn't thrive on feeling the vested interest of others who love them? (By the way, this derives in part, no doubt, from a sermon exhorting non-single folk to think of other questions to ask. Bravo, Pastor.)

They do ask me about the hard stuff: What am I watching? How have I been imaginatively virtuous today? How have I been vicious? How do I treat the men with whom I interact while dancing, or at the library, or at Starbucks? This could probably be done more, but we're slowly overcoming the trappings of our over-individualized, over-privatized society. If I were seeing someone, I am confident they'd ask about what we do behind closed doors. To borrow again from Winner, when I was baptized into the Body, what I do with my body becomes your business to a degree, not in explicit detail, but insofar as we all have been unified with Christ's bodily burial and resurrection. Since, "what we do with our bodies, what we do sexually, shapes our persons" (50), sexuality is a communal affair; it matters; and we have, not only the right, but the obligation to ask each other what we did last night, not in a policing way, but as an extension of Grace.

They invite me to dinner, but more than that, they invite me to life: dinner with the kids going crazy, dinner and games and talking, dinner and working together -- preparing for and cleaning after. This kind of doing life together keeps us from being boxed into separate packages of block cheese over there and Kraft Singles over here. Which brings me to a similar point, the "life classes" at church, or whatever they're called these days, aren't split up demographically either. Or at least, that's the intention. It may take several years for people to change their ways, but God promises to honor the vision -- and the works -- of the church when they align with his. We gain perspective from each other. I have insights that my family-focused friends need but can't get without help of an "other," and I too gain glimpses of Truth from their married lives which can be gained no where else!

So I just wanted to say thanks, because there aren't many un-married Christians over the age of 23 (in the South) who feel content, or as valuable members of the Family. It's a two-way street. I make myself available; I involve myself in the women's biblestudy at church, even though there's no one else there my age. I try to be vulnerable and open and "authentic," instead of complaining that no one is being "real." I ask if we can get together, which often leads to doing life together, rather than sitting at home, growing bitter about never being asked. And I admit, these things may be easier for my personality, the last in particular, but there's responsibility on the part of single Christians and non-single Christians alike to foster holistic community, so let's keep on working on it together.

First Grade Sunday School

Here's a funny story from my first week back on rotation with my favorite first graders:

The kids got out of Sing Time a bit early, so we're sitting around the table catching up. They seem just as happy to see me again as I am happy to be with them again, which is nice. As we're chatting, one of them pipes up: "Are you in college?"

"No, I've finished college."

"Oh, then you're married."

Grin. "No. I'm not married."

Now everyone is enticed by their own intrigue into the conversation. There are many guesses at my age, and someone asks, "Are you in high school?"

Chuckle. "No."

And again, "Are you in college?"

"Nope."

With my help, they finally guess my age with proud smiles and are now willing to believe I am indeed old enough to have finished college. The girl sitting next to me is catching up. "Wait, you're not married?"

"No."

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No."

"HOW DO YOU LIVE!?" Eyes wide and arms stretched out toward the sky in desperation.

Now I can't help myself. That's the funniest thing I've heard in a week! With smiling eyes I laugh heartily as I look at her and reply, "I have lots of friends." I resign to also respond: "I have a job..." not wishing to further instill the idea that we're defined as who we are by what we do, but not knowing how else to assuage their confusion about my 'young--but out of college--but not married' status as a person, their being wholly unacquainted with any other such persons. And this does seem to satisfy them, even the wide-eyed girl whose flair for the dramatic completely made my morning. And my hope is, that she will continue to encounter more holistic examples and ideas of what it means to be a woman.

At any rate, that was just one of the hilarious moments of my Sunday morning. Another was the spontaneous dance party that erupted when the calm background music for the game we were playing suddenly became upbeat. Wonderful. Just wonderful.

Home

I just spent the weekend visiting the church I went to during college, and, similarly to when I came back to my home church in Plano, I was greeted with big smiles and bigger hugs. Many didn't know I was coming to visit, or even that I was back, so it was a huge surprise to them and super fun for me. Most encouraging was that the number one thing I heard as people were welcoming me home was, "I thought about you so much while you were gone, wanting to talk to you and wishing you were here; so I've been praying for you a lot." This was from friends my age and more so from friends my parents' age-ish. It was the same thing my first Sunday back in Plano.

Eventhough I knew that to be the case while in Switzerland and frequently anchorered myself to the sure but dim knowledge of those prayers during good times and bad, I'm still awed by it now. I'm humbled by the big-ness of life that includes me but isn't centered on me, reminding me of life's connectedness. I'm connected to a bigger community amid larger happenings. Somehow, when the ceiling began to crack and it seemed as though the roof was caving in over my head, beneath the surface lay a foundation deep and strong. Life is happening beyond what I can see and feel and I am connected to it. I know this is no great revelation, but it is humbling and encouraging, refreshing, energizing, motivating. And I just wanted to give a shout out to these two churches.

I'm fortunate, I know, because at the end of the day, regardless of the doctrines I disagree with and the things that really get me fired up and even down right angry, no matter what arrogant and shallow-minded, young, 'We Know Everything' attitude reveals itself in something I say or do, despite all of those things, we know eachother. We love eachother, these churches and I; it's family and it's home. There are endearing quirks and irritating entrenchments. We fight it out and laugh it off; we overlook certain things and agree to disagree. And it's worth it. It's worth putting up with and it's nice to know I'm worth putting up with too.

It's nice to know that this relationship is two-sided. If you're church-hunting and if you want my advice, once you think you might have landed somewhere, invest. Invest in the generation before you as well as the one after you. Invest in men and women who posses a faith that is long-suffering, producing in them a character that is charitable. Putting effort into a good relationship yields character-building benefits. I am fortunate. Because it is two-sided and sometimes one (or both) of the sides is crap: straying from true religion (Jm 1:27, 1 Tim 5:4), we forget Christ and expect white roses to be red, or we simply skip the whole thing and pretend by putting in perfect rows of plastic tulips. At any rate, I just wanted to write about church from a positive perspective, from the garden that springs up out of the manure as God tills and waters and prunes, creating good for those who respond to his call with loving duty: tilling, watering, pruning (Rom 8:28).

Coming to a Close

Well, the term is ending in less than a week and I’m sad to be leaving. But, good news, I am coming back! I’ve been accepted as a helper, and as a bonus all my friends who applied to be helpers are also returning. Next term there will be an unprecedented seven helpers. Normally L’Abri hires four, but everyone who applied is basically wonderful and the workers are excited about getting to keep each of us on. I am looking forward to working alongside such great people. In fact, as a whole, I’m looking forward to next term, though I must admit, it feels a little surreal though I’m not sure why. I am also looking forward to coming home, being with family and friends, and going to church. Besides people, church is the thing I miss most while here at L’Abri. It will be more difficult next term than this one, because while four months is a long time to be missing church, eight months is longer (naturally) – you see, the once or twice I’ll get to go to church before returning to Switzerland is just going to be a tease. Of course you know we have chapel every Sunday, which I enjoy, but it isn’t the same. I miss singing, I miss age diversity and I miss baptisms and communion and oddly, I miss the messiness, the strange quirks and follies that make church home. Boy howdy, am I ready for some good old-fashioned church when I get home.

Jasie and I are still having wonderful tutorials, right down to the very end of it! This past week we discussed ways in which we desire to be more kingdom-minded and less self-absorbed, more countercultural and less socially permeated. We also talked about good getting in the way of best and the difficulties of walking the line between under achieving at too little a cost or because of fear and over achieving at too great a cost (namely relational), between selling oneself short and obsessing. No, we didn’t figure it out in the hour during my tutorial, but we are dedicated to seeing each other grow in Christ our Lord and I am blessed beyond measure by her guidance and her friendship as I am by many of you who are taking time to read these blogs week to week, who have been and continue to be so instrumental in my development as a disciple. The lovingkindness of the Lord and his bewildering blessings truly are endless.