Author Archives: Sarah and Lindsey

In Which the Woman at the Well Appears in My Dreams (or, When Armchair Spiritual Direction Fails)

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A reflection by Sarah

photini3

She encountered Christ personally during his ministry. The Gospel of John tells us about his meeting her at the well. During this encounter, Christ gently called her out for sexual sin: living with a man who was not her husband, and having five husbands before. She experienced an immediate conversion upon speaking with Christ and went back to her village to tell everyone about this particular trip to the well.

My patroness, St. Photini, is a familiar figure across all Christian traditions, though most know her simply as the woman at the well. When I was in the process of converting to my current Christian tradition, I felt her pulling me like a magnet. She appeared to me in my dreams, and clearly as I can now see Lindsey on the other side of the living room, I saw St. Photini sitting at the well with her jar waiting for Christ, or perhaps waiting for me. She was beckoning me to draw near. When I made the decision that she would be my saint, I felt as though I was answering an unexpected phone call from a not-so-close-yet-still-friend sort of person from my high school days. She hadn’t even made the short list of saints I’d been considering. As I shared all this with friends and acquaintances who were part of my soon-to-be-new Christian tradition, few were surprised that I had chosen St. Photini. However, I think many would be surprised to learn what did motivate and what did not motivate me to take her as my saint.

At the time I had transitioned from exploring this faith tradition into beginning the formal conversion process, people were full of suggestions as to which saint I should choose as my next patroness. Because keeping my patroness from my previous tradition was not an option, I was at a loss for whom to select. I felt strongly connected to St. Catherine of Alexandria, St. Mary Magdalene, and St. Monica, but I didn’t get an especially strong impression that I should choose one in particular. I listened intently as other people offered their thoughts, hoping that in a moment of epiphany I would realize something profound about myself, or about one of these great women of faith. That moment never came, but after about the fourth person I talked to I began to notice a troubling repetition. Everyone seemed stuck on St. Mary of Egypt, who hadn’t even crossed my mind because little in her story seemed relatable to my experience of life. And those who actually asked me which saints I had been considering would stop me mid-list at St. Mary Magdalene, proclaiming triumphantly, “That’s the one for you, Sarah!”

After hearing the names of these two saints repeated one after the other for weeks, I finally asked someone, “Why do you think so many people are advising that I take either St. Mary of Egypt or St. Mary Magdalene as my patroness?”

Seemingly puzzled by my lack of insight, he replied, “Because they’re both women who repented of serious sin.”

Having spent years reading and learning about the lives of the saints, I pressed further, “That’s true for many holy men and women the Church recognizes. What’s so special about St. Mary of Egypt and St. Mary Magdalene in that regard?”

He took a moment to stare at his shoes. Then, in a muted tone he spoke, “They repented and overcame their passions. They asked God to rid them of lustful desires…something like what you’re doing with celibacy.”

I walked away from this interaction without saying much more. Many people in Christian traditions feel qualified to offer armchair spiritual direction to others who identify as LGBT, and this advice tends to focus on helping LGBT people overcome sexual temptation. Most of these folks genuinely mean well and may even think they are complimenting a celibate LGBT person by comparing him or her to saints who once struggled with lust. Others might think they are performing a work of mercy by offering unsolicited warnings to LGBT Christians about inappropriate sexual behavior. But intentions notwithstanding, frequently these bits of guidance do more to induce feelings of shame than to help in any real way. In my experience, they give Christians and non-Christians alike a reason to believe that, “Don’t have sex!” is the only bit of wisdom and “love” the Church is willing to offer LGBT people.

Of all things I wish straight people within my Christian tradition knew about LGBT people, the fact that we aren’t just loose cannons full of insatiable sexual desire tops the list. Some weeks at my own parish when I hear bombastic claims at coffee hour about how gay people are “sexually perverting and destroying everything that’s good about America,” I ache for the opportunity to share that one’s sexual orientation is not an indicator of political views, level of sexual activity, or morality in general. I want to help people understand that for LGBT Christians, identifying with one or more of those letters does not necessarily have anything to do with what’s happening between the bedsheets—rather, it involves how one relates to others, to the world, and even to God.

I question the appropriateness of assuming that an LGBT person struggles primarily—or at all—with sexual temptation. To be sure, living up to the examples set by any of the saints is an extraordinary challenge, and having a deep sense of connectedness with these holy men and women is a great privilege. But this doesn’t change the fact that I find it painful (not to mention unhelpful) to receive counsel again and again that the best role model for taming with my own passions is a woman who was once so licentious that she wouldn’t even accept payment for prostitution.

Eventually when I did decide upon St. Photini as my patroness, the well-meaning folks who had been giving me feedback reacted positively. I think it’s likely that many who affirmed my selection felt comfortable knowing that I had chosen a saint who had repented of sexual sin. In the weeks leading up to my reception, I heard a lot of, “Ah, yes, St. Photini…the woman at the well who lived with a man she had not married, and had married five men before him.” What I didn’t hear much about was the incredible life she lived as an evangelist—the very reason I had begun to feel drawn to her after she had appeared in my dreams. My straight brothers and sisters did not have much to say about how she was baptized “the enlightened one” by the apostles, converted seven members of her family, and led all of them in spreading the good news of Christ. No one mentioned that she preached and led many others to know Christ, spat in Emperor Nero’s face when he asked her to renounce her faith, and died a martyr after being thrown down a well.

Everyone seemed glad for my awareness of St. Photini’s life pre-conversion and experience of repentance, but to this day, only two other people in my Christian tradition have ever asked me, “Why did you choose her?” I’m still learning the full answer to that question—I believe that in many cases, the saints call out to us rather than the other way around. But I hope the next time somebody inquires, it will open the door for a long, meaningful conversation about something other than lustful desires.

Comment Policy: Please remember that we, and all others commenting on this blog, are people. Practice kindness. Practice generosity. Practice asking questions. Practice showing love. Practice being human. If your comment is rude, it will be deleted. If you are constantly negative, argumentative, or bullish, you will not be able to comment anymore. We are the sole moderators of the combox.

A Review of Generous Spaciousness by Wendy VanderWal-Gritter

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We feel honored today for the opportunity to review Generous Spaciousness: Responding to Gay Christians in the Church, written by our friend Wendy VanderWal-Gritter. Since listening to her speak at the 2014 Gay Christian Network Conference, both of us have been anxious to get our hands on this book as soon as possible after its publication. On a personal level, we are immensely grateful for the generous spaciousness she has extended to us as we discern our particular queer calling, and are excited to offer our readers a preview of the positive contributions this book makes to the ongoing LGBT Christian conversation. We have spent several hours reading and rereading her work as thoroughly as possible so that way may give our most honest assessment. Along with the positives, we hope also to offer our readers the opportunity for further discussion on points where Generous Spaciousness seems to offer a bit more space for non-celibate LGBT Christians than for their celibate brothers and sisters.

As with the first book review we published, our review of Generous Spaciousness will focus on two primary questions: What does this book have to say to LGBT Christians who are living celibacy or exploring the possibility of celibate vocations? How does this book contribute to conversation about celibacy as a way of life that LGBT Christians might choose?

We think it is important to note that VanderWal-Gritter’s work has been informed by many years of providing pastoral care to Christians asking difficult questions about sexual orientation and gender identity. Her extensive experience shines through brilliantly in Generous Spaciousness. We are confident that LGBT Christians across the spectrum of ideologies on sexual ethics will find this book beneficial in one way or another. Specifically pertaining to celibate LGBT Christians, it has three major strengths:

First, Generous Spaciousness affirms LGBT Christians as part of the Church as opposed to a mission field for the Church to evangelize. We see this contribution as especially significant, but simultaneously we find it troubling that making such a simple statement is still necessary in Christianity as we know it today. This work clearly comes from a place of recognizing the faithfulness and dedication of LGBT Christians, seeing no reason to infer that a person’s sexual orientation or gender identity must automatically subdue his or her dedication to Christ. As in the example below, Generous Spaciousness shows profound appreciation for the struggles LGBT Christians have faced in order to remain connected to faith communities and to a personal sense of faith when those communities have failed to support their spiritual development:

“The Barna Group (a Christian research and polling company) found that over 70 percent of gay adults identify some connection with the Christian faith. And 58 percent indicate a personal relationship with Christ that is still important to them. But 42 percent were unchurched, which is significantly higher than heterosexual respondents (28 percent were unchurched). It has been said that the gay community is full of evangelical Christians who have been shown the back door of fellowship by the Church” (pg. 78).

We cannot speak highly enough to the profound empathy that is present throughout this book. Both celibate and non-celibate LGBT Christians will be gladdened to hear such strong advocacy for straight members of Christian faith communities to see people of all sexual orientations and gender identities as part of the Church.

Second, Generous Spaciousness speaks to the value of moving beyond dichotomies when ministering to real people. Most other books we’ve read on questions of how best to include LGBT members within Christian churches focus chiefly on gay marriage, arguing strongly for or against adoption of rituals for the blessing of same-sex unions. We were delighted to see that this book does not put a horse in that race. Instead, it encourages all Christians to move beyond scripts when asking and exploring questions about sexual orientation and gender identity, and especially when encountering young people who are dealing with these issues for the very first time.

Generous Spaciousness rightly calls attention to the fact that young people have already formulated statements about the acceptability of being LGBT and Christian, many believing that one cannot be both and must choose between the two. Further, it suggests more helpful ways of thinking about questions of sexuality and gender identity that move the conversation beyond mandates and towards core issues of Christian discipleship. In Chapter 5, VanderWal-Gritter offers four examples of “life-giving stories that could be part of the thought and heart process of the students in our congregations who are navigating their faith and sexuality:”

* “My family, pastor, and church support me in being honest about my confusion, questions, and experiences of sexual identity.”

* “As a gay person, I have options to explore as I decide how to live my life in congruence with my beliefs and values.”

* “I know that people in my family and church will love me and welcome me in the future–even if we have differences in our perspectives and ideas about homosexuality.”

* “I can be open to whatever God will do in my life and be confident that I will have the opportunity to love and be loved” (pg. 89)

As we read this section of the book, it struck us that each of these life-giving stories could be just as relevant for a person considering celibacy as for a person considering a non-celibate way of life. LGBT Christians who ultimately decide to commit to celibacy could benefit from more supportive parents, pastors, and communities amidst confusion along the road to that decision. Those leaning towards celibacy may also find comfort in knowing that there are multiple options for celibate vocations, including monasticism, celibate partnership, lay secular institutes, and life as a celibate single person. It is also true that celibates and non-celibates alike often encounter differences in perspective with their families and churches regarding homosexuality. A committed celibate who finds a label like “gay” or “transgender” meaningful might belong to a family and church where most people believe that one should not even use a sexual orientation or gender identity label, or alternatively might be part of a family or church where others take a more progressive stance on sexual ethics. In either case, knowing that one is loved despite this difference can be meaningful. It can be greatly comforting for a person considering celibacy to be able to trust that God will lead him or her toward loving relationships with other people. Though many readers will probably see the four items on VanderWal-Gritter’s list primarily as affirmations of non-celibate vocational pathways, we were impressed to see that these and many other pointers offered in this book are also relevant for LGBT Christians who have chosen or may eventually choose celibacy.

Third, Generous Spaciousness articulates a vision for “staying alive to hopefulness” that is inclusive of LGBT Christians who intend to pursue celibacy. Acknowledging one’s sexual orientation and gender identity can be a difficult process to navigate, especially at the outset of the journey. We’ve read a lot of tips for people trying to come out that focus on an end goal of celebrating one’s LGBT identity and engaging in various kinds of sexual relationships. Generous Spaciousness offers three concrete pathways that guide people towards Christ first and foremost: release of grief, reception of beauty, and cultivation of a positive vision for the future. Surprisingly, these pathways are not explicitly linked to sexual orientation or gender identity, but rather center on trying to find a vocation when one realizes oneself to be a minority. Generous Spaciousness encourages LGBT Christians to see the hopefulness of wider creation while at the same time seeking beauty within their experiences of being in a gender and/or sexual minority, noting that being LGBT should be viewed holistically:

“A gay person’s sense of sexuality ought to be viewed through the same robust lens of holistic sexuality. Connecting our relational image bearing to our sexuality invites us to consider creativity, humor, communion, and the like as expressions of our sexuality. All of these aspects of our personhood are connected to the reality that we are sexual beings” (pg. 115).

By challenging its readers to see sexuality as fundamentally about human connectedness, Generous Spaciousness offers strong guidance as to how an LGBT person might go about integrating his or her sexuality into a broader sense of self.

For all its strengths, Generous Spaciousness does have two significant weaknesses in its ability to help churches support LGBT Christians who are celibate or who are exploring celibacy. The book tries exceptionally hard to be inclusive of the experiences of all LGBT Christians. However, it seems that in detailing the evolution of ministry at New Direction from being an Exodus International member ministry for people with “unwanted same-sex attraction” to embodying a posture aligned with generous spaciousness for LGBT Christians to come to differing conclusions, the book extends a much stronger overture to LGBT Christians already in or exploring the possibility of sexually active same-sex relationships.

The first weakness is that Generous Spaciousness seems to assume celibate LGBT Christians do not need stronger affirmation of their vocations from the Church, and that the Church’s real challenge is in supporting non-celibate LGBT Christians. This might come as a surprising critique, especially given that New Direction has received praise for its ministry towards celibate LGBT Christians. Nevertheless, the book provides two exceptionally poignant examples that leave us wondering how much support celibate LGBT Christians can receive within a church community that employs a generous spaciousness approach.

At the end of Chapter 6, VanderWal-Gritter tells the story of a woman who experiences same-sex attraction but is committed to celibacy. This woman was attending a diverse church with many gay couples. The presence of gay couples “made it harder for her to stay true to her convictions. She spoke to her pastor, and he wisely suggested that she meet with one of the lesbian couples” (pg. 106). The woman committed to celibacy could affirm the authentic Christian faith of the lesbian couple, “but as she twisted the wedding ring on her hand–a symbol that God, her bridegroom, would provide for her needs–she was able to say that God had enlarged her heart” (pg. 107). At no point in this story do we hear about how another person offered the celibate woman a sense of generous spaciousness to discern her vocation in community; indeed, it seems that her pastor’s counsel was more for her to give generous spaciousness than to receive support. VanderWal-Gritter appears to support this counsel, thus overlooking the challenges faced by a person committed to a celibate vocation in a sea of people who are married or strongly exploring the possibility of marriage.

Chapter 12 explores the question of how to provide LGBT Christians with opportunities to lead and serve local congregations that frequently have firm expectations of people in leadership and pastors who struggle to communicate in a sensitive manner. VanderWal-Gritter highlights the example of a married LGBT couple looking for a church and emailing churches in an effort to discern how welcome they would be as a family. As a couple ourselves, we appreciated the presence of this example because we are all too aware of how congregations can ostracize LGBT people in their midst. While this is a great example and is important for churches to consider, it comes on the heels of twelve chapters worth of anecdotes, very few featuring a clearly identified celibate LGBT Christian struggling to be welcomed and affirmed in his or her faith community. We are familiar with the broader LGBT Christian community enough to infer that more of these stories than the obvious ones likely feature celibate people. However, since the vocational status of celibate LGBT Christians is often left unstated, Generous Spaciousness unwittingly suggests that a celibate LGBT Christian doesn’t need as much space as a non-celibate for discerning his or her distinctive vocation because he or she likely has a more traditional sexual ethic.

The second weakness is that Generous Spaciousness discusses all forms of committed relationships among LGBT Christians as though they are basically the same regardless of whether they are sexual. Throughout the book, VanderWal-Gritter uses many descriptors for relationships between LGBT people such as “same-sex relationships,” “consummated partnerships,” and “covenanted gay relationships.” Frequently, she employs these terms interchangeably in a way that suggests they apply to sexually active relationships. In the few instances where this book shows openness to the question of whether LGBT people could be in celibate relationships, the uniqueness of this type of relationship seems hidden:

“It is important to remember that love is love. And love is of God. There is much love to be given and received within the context of companionship or friendships, whether or not these relationships take on an exclusive or primary role in a person’s life and whether or not they are consummated sexually” (pg. 101).

We’ve devoted a lot of space here at A Queer Calling to discussing the uniqueness of the celibate vocation lived in partnership. For many celibate LGBT Christians, it is a difficult process to discern what celibacy can look like within a shifting landscape of vocations, and this is certainly true for others we know who are pursuing celibate relationships. At times while reading Generous Spaciousness, we felt as though we were being lumped together with LGBT couples who do not feel called to celibacy, as though the only difference between a celibate partnership and a non-celibate partnership is the absence of sex. Consider the following quote: “When we read accounts of gay, celibate Christians, deeply committed to the self-denial such commitment entails, and stories of gay Christians who are affirming of gay relationships, it can cause a great deal of confusion. Inevitably, we may find ourselves asking, ‘Who is really committed to Christ?'” (pg. 105). With these categorical divisions posed, we are left scratching our heads and wondering where we fit into the mix.

On the whole, we are grateful for Generous Spaciousness: Responding to Gay Christians in the Church. Wendy VanderWal-Gritter presents a compelling case for why generous spaciousness is needed in the first place and provides insights as to how this approach can open up life-giving vocational pathways for LGBT Christians. She offers a solid starting set of ideas for how LGBT Christians inclined towards celibacy could find strength as they grow into mature vocations. However, celibate LGBT Christians themselves need a generous spaciousness within the Church to receive support in these vocations, and we did not see those needs fully recognized within this book.

Comment Policy: Please remember that we, and all others commenting on this blog, are people. Practice kindness. Practice generosity. Practice asking questions. Practice showing love. Practice being human. If your comment is rude, it will be deleted. If you are constantly negative, argumentative, or bullish, you will not be able to comment anymore. We are the sole moderators of the combox.

How to Live a Life of Celibacy While Missing the Point of Vocation

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Here at A Queer Calling, one of our main purposes is to help people establish a positive vision of celibacy as a vocation. However, our efforts do not organically change what is out there on the rest of the internet. A reader recently sent us a link to How to Live a Life of Celibacy, a wikiHow article with 38 contributors as of 20 May 2014. This link is the top hit if one googles “how to live a life of celibacy,” and it contains 20 tips/steps that are absolutely loaded with assumptions about what a celibate life entails. We earnestly wonder if any of the 38 authors have any lived experience with celibacy and are curious to know if they are trying to apply lessons they have learned while abstaining temporarily from sexual activity to living a life of committed celibacy. We’re going to quote each of these 20 steps and share our responses, snark and all, to this article’s assumptions.

1. Make sure this is something that you are very serious about. It can be a great thing if you are doing it for the right reasons.

So far, so good. We agree entirely. Celibacy is a life marked by a commitment. It’s helpful to know why you are committing to a celibate vocation, and to develop a positive sense of what celibacy can mean for your life. We’d even go so far to say that if you’re committing to living celibately because your spiritual director has told you that failing to live a celibate life will send you straight to hell, it’s best to challenge the celibacy mandate.

2. Find a friend or mentor that has gone through this period in life and ask questions about his or her reason for making their choice.

Again, this counsel is extremely helpful. Lindsey has highlighted the importance of finding people living a celibate vocation in a post, Actively Cultivating a Celibate Vocation.

3. Avoid listening to others’ feelings about your decision, if they do not agree with yours. It is your choice, and yours alone. Instead, talk to friends and people who will not judge you, or this choice you have made.

Generally, sound advice. When someone makes a committed decision on any matter that other people might not understand, he or she has to choose whose counsel to embrace. This counsel is not uniquely tied to cultivating a celibate vocation. Indeed, it is often helpful to hear out close friends when discerning any vocation because they can often see into one’s blind spots. Friends can be great barometers in helping a person discern a vibrant, life-giving, and connected celibate vocation.

The rest of this article offers what is arguably some of the worst counsel that we’ve heard when it comes to cultivating celibate vocations. So, for the rest of our post…snark alert!

4. Get involved involved in different hobbies; better not to be around many people you may be sexually attracted to for a while if this can be avoided. You could become involved with some more spiritual or personal activities instead.

If someone makes you dizzy with attractions, the obvious solution is just stay extra busy. Why not? Avoidance works for all of life’s challenges, right? According to this article, It’s possible to run, run, run, run, and still do more running, fear all kinds of relationships, and embrace a white-knuckled disconnection and aloofness that can suck the life force out of even the most introverted people, yet still discover a sustainable manner of living. Really, wikiHow?

5. Try to find people who you think will understand you and your choices. Doing this alone can be very challenging. Tell them you need some moral support.

A moment of seriousness: we agree that living a celibate vocation can be hard. (Living a marital vocation is hard as well.) We do our best to foster a community space where people interested in celibacy can find support because we have benefited significantly from the friend support we have received. It can be helpful to reach out to friends and mutually discuss the discernment process often. All Christians should be in the process of regularly seeking God to discern direction for their lives.

6. Avoid temptation, especially at the start of this lifestyle. Do not put yourself in situations that might lead to sexual activity, such as close quarters with someone to whom you are sexually attracted. Don’t spend time alone and secluded together unless you absolutely know that you can control yourself in that situation. You can still be intimate and close with them, as long as you are in control. (it also helps for them to know of your statutes with this lifestyle)

Surely, every celibate person is likely to crave sexual encounters and reach out for them whenever any opportunities arise. Uh huh. *Eyeroll.* We’ve seen the counsel contained in Tip #6 mirrored in spiritual direction when the spiritual director cautions an LGBT person about the slippery slope towards illicit activities. To be sure, if a person is committing to celibacy after extensive sexual involvement, it might do that individual well to consider what habits might need to change. However, that’s a different kind of message than simply, “Control thyself.”

7. It is a fact that after a certain amount of time, that if you do not remind yourself of what you are missing sexually, you will stop feeling strong urges. However, this can be hard if you are regularly engaging in watching social entertainment like movies, TV shows, and many advertisements and commercials that continually show hormonally and/or sexually led relationships. Learn to ignore these; they are society’s standards, not yours.

So, a celibate person should hide himself or herself in a hole because we live in a sex-saturated culture. Sexuality is merely an appetite that can be starved into submission…except, it’s not. In truth, human sexuality brings us into all sorts of different relationships with others and colors how we perceive the world around us. There is beauty and connection in so many places. It is right to say that world does not typically have a positive view of vocation, especially when vocation calls us towards sacrificial love. Both celibate and marital vocations call people towards this sacrificial love, even if this love manifests in slightly different ways.

8. For the most part, continue to keep anything about sexual romance or hormone induced relationships away from your vision. Make a list of all you have wanted to do. You do not have a mate holding you back, so take that trip or write that novel.

Let’s merge the “Hide in a hole” strategy from Tip #7 with the “Keep extra busy” strategy from Tip #4. Honestly, how does labeling the romantic attachments of others as “hormone induced relationships” do anything for cultivating deep and meaningful non-sexual relationships with people? Positioning yourself as Superman focused on building your resume will only bring you so far before you absolutely, positively, completely hit burnout. And when your human frailty catches up to you, you’re likely to find no one around you because they got tired of your always looking down on them and their ways of life. “Tip” #8 is, universally, a bad idea.

9. Doing things alone will help you to grow and challenge yourself on why you wanted to be celibate in the first place. Self empowerment is a powerful thing when used humbly.

Because celibacy necessarily means relegating oneself to the life of a hermit. Somehow, not having sex and discerning a way of life as an unmarried person means doing many things, or everything, alone. It seems the contributor of Tip #9 was thinking more along the lines of “how to accept the realities of being lonely” than “how to live a life of celibacy.” And, “Self-empowerment is a powerful thing when used humbly.” What’s that supposed to mean? Empower yourself, but only do it in a humble way?

10. If religion is part of your decision to be celibate, read the Bible or other religious book for guidance and strength. Turn to your Priest or religious community in times of weakness and need.

Uhm…if a person has decided to become celibate for religious reasons, it seems likely that he or she is already reading his or her holy text for guidance and strength in addition to receiving some sort of guidance (helpful or not) from a religious leader or member of a faith community. This isn’t bad advice, but it’s basically the same as telling a student, “If passing the course is part of your decision to take it, study the textbook and meet with the professor in times of confusion.” Is it really so difficult to figure this one out?

11. Celibacy can be practiced in a relationship, if both are in agreement.

We agree with this one. No sarcasm here. However, living celibacy within the context of a partnered relationship is not as simple as Tip #11 makes it sound. Trying to develop a sense of celibate vocation as a couple takes much more than “agreement.” Sometimes, both partners can be in agreement about celibacy and the relationship can still fail. Even if the relationship is working out well for both partners, certain aspects of a celibate vocation might not come naturally. Being committed to a celibate partnership takes dedication, tenacity, and willingness to work out the difficult parts as they arise.

12. You can then both be each other’s strength, and learn something together such as an instrument which will keep the mind busy.

Seems we cut the sarcasm a bit too soon. Of course, this is what our life together as a celibate couple looks like. We spend every day finding new, random hobbies to practice together and mutually increasing our strength to avoid letting our minds and hands wander in the direction of each other’s genitals. Piano and tambourine all the way! *Massive eye roll.* We have to ask, if a celibate partnership is supposed to be so focused on “keeping the mind busy” and presumably distracting each other from having sex with each other, what is the purpose of living in such an arrangement? If it’s all about avoiding temptation, wouldn’t it be easier not to have a partner? The suggestion that celibate partnership is valuable because it can keep both people’s minds out of the gutter is absolutely ludicrous.

13. The joy of learning and focusing more into engaging in other activities of life will help you to occupy your mind. It will also tire you out and make you sleep well.

Because a celibate vocation is all about distracting oneself from anything and everything that could possibly lead to sex. And by the way, sexually active people don’t experience the joy of learning and have the worst cases of insomnia. Had no idea. Next, please…

14. Celibacy is said to be a great way to improve mental powers and concentration.

Maybe if we commit to celibacy for the rest of our lives and do it the “right” way according to this article, one day we’ll wake up with telekinetic powers like Matilda.  Or better yet, we’ll discover our hidden abilities at levitating feathers, speaking parseltongue, and blowing up our annoying relatives. We’ve been celibate for a good while now…where are our Hogwarts letters?

15. Celibacy allows a romantic relationship to grow and develop tenderness, maturity, and self-giving. True love takes a long time, and staying away from sex makes a relationship more stable, not less. A man is impressed by a woman’s sweet and gentle “No,” if he has pushed her. It increases his respect and trust in her. It makes him want to be a better man, even if he’s been a player in the past. The delightful erotic tension is the beginning of legendary love stories that make for good marriages.

Wait a minute…is this article on the topic of “how to live a life of celibacy,” or is it more about, “why it’s better to be sexually abstinent until marriage”? Seems counterproductive to be talking about the value of erotic tension and preparing for an eventual marriage if the whole point of this piece is to advise folks on living lives of celibacy.

16. Understand why you want to take this vow before you do so. There are many reasons why people take this vow. The most common is to avoid sexually transmitted diseases, and to engage in intense studies as celibacy frees an enormous amount of time from your schedule. It will save you some money too, especially on a student budget.

Yep. Every day, we hear the stories of vowed celibates proclaiming, “Now I don’t have to get those embarrassing STD tests anymore, and I’m smarter and richer to boot. Celibacy is the best thing since sliced bread!” Not so much.

17. Meditate on this decision and do not be rash about it. This is a lifelong commitment you are about to make.

<Temporary snark break> Great advice, Tip #17. By the way, this applies to a marriage commitment as well.

18. Be sure to tell everyone around you that you are taking a vow of celibacy. It is very important to tell those who are closest to you about your decision and convince them to support you every step of the way.

And we’re back. This is exactly what we want to do. Shout it from the rooftops: “We aren’t having sex! If you don’t support us, you really should!” Such an approach is sure to go a long way with making us more welcome among people in our Christian tradition who remain skeptical of our partnership.

19. Avoid temptation and concentrate on other important things. To keep up the commitment, go back to school, get a new hobby, or buy a pet. Keep yourself as busy as possible.

In case the main message of this article isn’t clear enough already, we’ll spell it out for you once again: the only way to remain celibate is to busy yourself to the point of exhaustion so you’ll not be at risk for dropping your pants every five seconds. Groan.

20. Always reassess your vows every four to six months to make sure that you want to continue to do this. If you have decided that you do not want to live this lifestyle anymore, go ahead and do what you desire.

Because vows aren’t real commitments, and most human beings are unable to live a particular vocation from more than four to six months. Why don’t we start offering the same advice to married couples? Let’s not try to encourage people to work out their salvation within their chosen vocations. Why not give up on celibacy at the first bump along the road? Heck, why not tell married people they should consider abandoning their spouses after the first significant conflicts of their married lives? It’s all about “what I want in the moment” anyway, right?

To find so many misconceptions about celibacy packed into a list of 20 tips/steps for living a celibate life strikes us as absurd, especially when said tip list is the very first hit when a person searches for “how to live a life of celibacy.” Presumably, this article was written because so many people were using this particular search term. (Sarah has some insight into this as Sarah once worked as a freelance content writer for similar sources–not wikiHow.) The likelihood that every person who takes to the internet to begin researching celibacy as a way of life for himself or herself sees this article first is disturbing and saddening.

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Some thoughts on choosing a spiritual director

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A reflection by Lindsey

I’ve never been a person who intrinsically knows how I want particular important relationships to play out. I have a gut sense of what I find helpful and what sort of things tend to scare me a bit. Recently, I’ve spent some time wondering if there are any patterns to what I find helpful and scary when looking for a new spiritual director. This reflection should be read as exclusively descriptive of my own experience and not remotely prescriptive of others’ experiences.

So much of spiritual direction involves finding various kinds of balance. God is with us, and God has immeasurable power. The commandments are given to us for our benefit, and to say God’s grace is “infinite” is to rob grace of some of its depth. We are called to love our neighbors as ourselves, cherishing the specific people God has placed in our paths, all while cultivating a sense of our global place as stewards of creation. In my own limitations as a human, certain truths are harder to remember than others.

I look for spiritual directors who help restore my sense of balance. I’ve learned that I tend to focus on what I can do actively to grow spiritually, oftentimes cultivating busyness rather than sabbath refreshment. I can get hung up on trying to discern the nature of God’s commands as opposed to deepening my appreciation of God’s grace. I like problem solving and can overstate my own capabilities rather than cultivating a childlike faith. I’m grateful to develop a good sense of how I “lean” spiritually, and I’m fully aware that some people lean in the exactly opposite kinds of ways.

When it comes to looking for a spiritual director, I’ve found it helpful to seek out spiritual directors who ooze grace, joy, peace, and a sense of belonging. I honestly hope that these gifts will be contagious. For too long, I’ve experienced my place in the church as being perched precariously between needing to do all of the right things in exactly the right ways and needing to discuss my spiritual journey in exactly the right way. I’ve needed people who can help me see that it’s okay to move away from the “prim and proper” and relish in being a child of God and of the Church.

If there’s one message I’ve needed to hear delivered authentically from a spiritual director in my Christian tradition, it has been, “You are welcome here.” That, full stop, is important. You are welcome here, period. I’ve been in so many congregations where I’ve felt like a liability from the moment I set foot in the door. I’ve received so much direction about how to avoid any lustful thoughts or conduct myself in a way that safeguards the community against scandal that I’ve all but forgotten how it feels to be loved. I never expected to hear a word of complete welcome from any spiritual director within my Christian tradition; when the sentence flowed out of a pastor’s mouth 18 months ago, it left an indelible impression.

I love pastors who constantly spout various wonders of the resurrection. I have to wonder if they’ve faced their own demons and encountered a victorious Christ. I want to know where their hope comes from. It’s something to wonder if they see God’s glory everywhere they look, including when they look directly at me.

Comment Policy: Please remember that we, and all others commenting on this blog, are people. Practice kindness. Practice generosity. Practice asking questions. Practice showing love. Practice being human. If your comment is rude, it will be deleted. If you are constantly negative, argumentative, or bullish, you will not be able to comment anymore. We are the sole moderators of the combox.

Celibacy as a “Layover”

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“Celibacy is a necessary holding pattern for many LGBT people who are recovering from their experiences in the ex-gay world. I’m okay with talking about this way of life with the understanding that it isn’t meant to be permanent. After you gain a few more years of life experience and become more comfortable in your identities, you’ll be able to appreciate celibacy as a stop along the way to full acceptance of yourselves as LGBT Christians.”

This isn’t an exact quote, but rather a summary of dozens of messages that regularly hit our inbox. In response to several posts we’ve written (like this one, this one, and this one), some readers have sent us messages such as the one above, and others have contacted us to request that we write on the particular misconception about celibacy implicit in these messages.

As we’ve participated in the broader LGBT Christian conversation over the years, we’ve noticed prevalence in the idea that celibacy is a “layover” along the journey to self- acceptance. Usually, this assumption will come up in discussion the very first time we even mention the c-word to folks who know we are part of the LGBT community. At this point, we’ve lost count of how many times we’ve been told some variation of: “One day, you’ll come to accept yourselves as you are and you’ll not have to be celibate anymore.” Because we and other LGBT celibates hear this message so often, we think it’s important to address it directly in a post. We believe this message is unhelpful and inappropriate for several reasons.

Before we speak to some of these specifically, we want to be clear in our acknowledgement that for some people, temporary celibacy is part of a longer process that culminates in the embrace of a progressive sexual ethic. The purpose of this post is not to deny that this experience exists or to make a judgment about LGBT people who have come to view celibacy as a “layover” rather than a permanent way of life. Our intention is to discuss the assumption that all LGBT celibates will eventually come to view celibacy in this way and move on to sexually active relationships.

Having said that, here are the top three reasons we see the “celibacy as layover” message as problematic:

It degrades singleness and various kinds of intimate relationships that are not sexual. As we’ve written about in other posts, many people see marriage and other types of sexual relationships as rites of passage from adolescence into adulthood. In some Christian circles, it almost seems that there is a marriage mandate: if you aren’t married, others believe that something must be wrong with you. Though we did not address this directly in our first post on marriage, while preparing for it we heard from people of all sexual orientations and gender identities who find this pressure to marry troubling. It seems to us that seeing LGBT self-acceptance as contingent upon openness to sexual activity is not much different from seeing a sexually active way of life as the only “normal” vocation for any person. Both messages place harmful limits on the diversity of human experience, and neither leaves room for the stories of people who find fulfillment and connectedness in monastic or lay celibate life.

It posits incorrectly that all LGBT celibates are celibate for the same reasons. One variety of life experience that debates on LGBT sexual ethics frequently ignore is that of the person who has chosen celibacy but not because of a belief that same-sex sexual activity is sinful. He or she might not feel well suited to a lifelong partnership. Perhaps he or she finds that emotionally intimate friendships and other relationships meet all his or her needs for companionship. The “celibacy as layover” message seeks to make these types of experiences into something pathological, finding internalized homophobia even if there is none. Additionally, it suggests that all LGBT celibates either experience self-hatred on a personal level or are blindly obedient to an institution that promotes contempt against the LGBT community. It leaves no space for the possibility that an LGBT person has given his or her full consent to living a celibate vocation and is answering a call from God.

It labels LGBT celibates as poor, unfortunate souls who need help to reach liberation through expression of sexuality. This is possibly the most upsetting aspect of the “celibacy as layover” message for an LGBT celibate who has chosen his or her vocation freely after significant prayer and reflection. It negates the entirety of a person’s process of coming to terms with his or her sexuality, assuming that there must be some element missing from that process if sexual activity does not become part of an LGBT person’s life. Though not always the case, we hear this notion most often from straight people. To us, that makes it even more troubling because the person offering the message is implying that he or she knows better than we do what is best for us. Every time we hear others’ opinions on how pitiful, deluded, and frightened we must be to have chosen celibacy and how much more liberated we would feel if we would just give in and have sex, we wonder about what “liberation” actually means to the person making these statements. In what sense is pressuring another human being to engage in a sexual relationship “liberating”?

The common thread amongst all uses of the “celibacy as layover” message as we’ve heard it is that it’s often posed as an affirming statement to help people integrate faith and sexuality. Once again, we do not wish to deny the experiences of LGBT people who have lived celibacy temporarily and have later adopted other ways of life. But it’s erroneous to suggest that all LGBT celibates will eventually engage in sexual activity or else spend the rest of our lives in misery. We wonder what other kinds of messages might be intended as affirming and helpful, but can actually be limiting, oppressive, or harmful to members of the LGBT community. If you have thoughts on this, please share in the comments.

Comment Policy: Please remember that we, and all others commenting on this blog, are people. Practice kindness. Practice generosity. Practice asking questions. Practice showing love. Practice being human. If your comment is rude, it will be deleted. If you are constantly negative, argumentative, or bullish, you will not be able to comment anymore. We are the sole moderators of the combox.