Category Archives: Church

12 Ways People with a Modern, Liberal Sexual Ethic Can Be More Supportive of Celibate LGBT Christians

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Yesterday, we published 12 Ways People with a Traditional Sexual Ethic Can Be More Supportive of Celibate LGBT Christians, and we received a lot of great feedback. Today’s post is its complement, written specifically for straight people with a modern, liberal sexual ethic who would like to be more supportive of celibate LGBT Christians. Some points might  also be helpful for LGBT Christians holding a progressive sexual ethic, and we plan to do a post in a couple of weeks focusing on the same topic with that audience in mind. If we’ve left anything out, please feel free to add more helpful tips in the comments. We hope you enjoy!

1. Respect our choice to live celibacy. Choosing celibacy can be just as difficult as choosing a sexually active way of life. For a person with progressive views on sexual ethics, respecting our decisions on this matter should be no different than respecting others’ decisions to be in (or be open to) sexually active relationships. It’s easy to assume that celibacy is not a free choice, especially since many celibate LGBT people are members of Christian denominations that teach a traditional sexual ethic. We believe that in general, people do have choices to accept or reject their Christian traditions’ teachings on marriage and sexuality. People in most developed societies have the freedom to join whatever faith tradition they wish, and nothing is keeping a person who sees a liberal sexual ethic as a primary theological concern from finding a denomination or church that teaches a liberal sexual ethic or accepts that members will have differences of opinion on sexual ethics. For most LGBT people who are legally of age, remaining in a denomination that teaches a traditional sexual ethic (and living by that sexual ethic) is a free choice. Please acknowledge this, even if you don’t agree with our choices.

2. Make friends with the question mark. Ask us why we chose celibacy. Do not assume that all celibate LGBT Christians have chosen celibacy for the same reasons. Some might have chosen celibacy because they feel that is how God is calling them, personally, to live. Others might have chosen celibacy because that way of life feels most natural to them, and things just sort of fell into place as they sometimes do with people who feel called to marriage. Still, others might respond with, “I’m celibate because I believe gay sex is a sin,” or “I’m celibate because I believe God calls all lesbian, gay, transgender (and some bisexual) Christians to celibacy.” But you’ll never know why a person chose celibacy unless you ask. There are a million and one possible reasons for decisions people make in life, and this decision is no different.

3. Affirm that God calls some people to live celibate lives. The fact that God calls some people to celibacy is entirely scriptural. There are a number of biblical references to celibacy and its goodness, including St. Paul’s discussion of marriage and celibacy as ways of life in 1 Corinthians 7. We notice that sometimes, people who take a modern, liberal approach to sexual ethics aren’t very quick to affirm celibacy as a God-given vocation for anyone. We’ve been told on occasion by liberal Christians that celibacy is “unnatural” and “oppressive” in all circumstances, despite the reality that it has been an integral part of the Christian tradition since the early Church. Throwing misconceptions about celibacy in our faces will only alienate us. Even if you don’t agree with our approach to sexual ethics, and even if you don’t believe us when we say that we feel called to celibacy, acknowledging that God calls at least some people to celibacy can go a long way toward supporting celibate LGBT Christians.

4. Consider that LGBT people have a variety of different ideas about what it means to be accepted fully in the Church. Legal gay marriage is a hot-button issue in American society today. Sacramental or denominationally-recognized gay marriage is a hot-button issue within Christian traditions. We get this, and we also see how much pain contention over the issue has caused in several churches. We don’t want to minimize that.  Yet, we find it important to point out that some Christians with a progressive sexual ethic assume LGBT people will feel welcome only in Christian traditions that bless same-sex marriages. For most celibate LGBT Christians (single and coupled), sacramental marriage for same-sex couples is not a priority. Many of us would even advocate against our specific denominations’ recognizing gay marriages. Some of us accept that there are other denominations that will perform gay marriages and are completely within their rights to do so. People with a modern, liberal sexual ethic should not assume that all celibate LGBT people would suddenly be liberated and not need to live celibacy anymore if all Christian denominations were to begin blessing same-sex marriages. Speaking for the two of us, even if our Christian tradition were to change its teachings on marriage and sexuality tomorrow, we would still be committed to celibacy. As for acceptance within one’s church, celibate LGBT Christians might be more concerned with other issues: will my denomination prevent me from receiving the Eucharist? Will I be asked to leave my faith community? Will a religious leader try to force me to change my sexual orientation? Consider these issues and do not focus solely on marriage.

5. Promote non-discrimination in employment and housing. Even looking at legal issues, supporting LGBT people goes far beyond the issue of marriage. Celibate LGBT Christians hold many different opinions on legal (as opposed to sacramental) gay marriage, and there are a number of other legal issues affecting LGBT people regardless of sexual activity status. The two that come to mind most prominently for us are employment and housing issues. In many states, it is completely legal for employers to fire people (or not hire in the first place) even on suspicion that they are part of the LGBT community. This issue is very important to the two of us, as Lindsey has experienced more than one wrongful termination. It’s also legal in many places to turn a worthy applicant away from a potential housing arrangement on suspicion that the person is LGBT. Neither of us has personally experienced housing discrimination, but we know people who have. Celibate or not, LGBT people need allies advocating for these laws and policies to change. But because so many allies focus all their energies on the issue of marriage equality, advocacy on these other issues ends up getting shortchanged.

6. Listen, listen, listen. Get to know us as people. Learn about who we are and what is important to us. We’re people, not symbols of the progressive side of a culture war. If we tell you that you’ve done something we perceive as hurtful or discriminatory, be willing to communicate with us about that. Don’t assume that you’re above reproach because you have a long history as an ally. We appreciate that many of you have risked your own reputations to support the LGBT community and we are very grateful for that, but even folks with the best of intentions can make serious mistakes. Being able to admit your mistakes as an ally is one thing that will lead more celibate LGBT people to see you as a safe person. Too often, Christian allies dismiss the concerns of LGBT celibates because of theological disagreement. This is a serious mistake. If you’re going to support LGBT Christians, be willing to support all of us—not just those whose theologies match yours.

7. Allow us to define ourselves and our relationships in our preferred ways. If a celibate LGB Christian wants to use the term “same-sex attracted” instead of “gay,” “lesbian,” or “bisexual,” respect that. Don’t insist that in order to come to a place of self-acceptance, the person must use the term you prefer. Don’t insist that a transgender person use the pronouns with which you are most comfortable. And as evidenced by the existence of our blog, celibate LGBT couples do exist. Not all of us define those relationships in the same ways. Some may use terms like “platonic partnership” or “covenant friendship.” Others (like the two of us) might not know exactly what to call ourselves, but have a sense that words like “family” and “team” come closest to ideal. Celibate couples might change their term preferences over time as we come to a greater understanding of what our relationships mean. We need the space to explore this in our own ways. Please allow us the courtesy of defining (or intentionally not defining) our own relationships. Insisting that you know better than we do what to call us crosses many lines of appropriateness.

8. Don’t assume we’re judging sexually active LGBT people. It’s true that most celibate LGBT people hold to traditional, conservative beliefs on marriage and sexuality. However, this does not mean that celibates necessarily sit in places of judgment, looking down on the lives of sexually active LGBT couples and shaking our fingers in loud (or quiet) condemnation. Yes, there are celibate LGBT people who do judge sexually active LGBT people, but many of us feel that we have no business contemplating what may or may not be happening in another person’s sex life. Regardless of the reasons for our celibacy, many of us are concerned with keeping our eyes on our own paper, so to speak. That’s true for disagreements on several other theological issues too, not just same-sex sexual activity. Speaking for the two of us specifically, we can’t see any benefit that would come from spending any amount of time imagining what other people are or aren’t doing in bed. Working out one’s own salvation is a full time job. If you are interested in supporting celibate LGBT people, start real conversations with us on any number of issues and skip the lecture about how our way of life is supposedly a judgment of someone else’s way of life.

9. Avoid speaking ill of our Christian traditions. If you take a modern, liberal approach to sexual ethics, you might not be too fond of Christian traditions that disagree with you on this point. It may be tempting to say unkind things about the Roman Catholic Church, Eastern Orthodox Church, Seventh Day Adventist Church, Presbyterian Church in America, Southern Baptist Church, and so on. We want to discourage you from doing this. Many celibate LGBT Christians come from these traditions and others that teach a more conservative sexual ethic. If you’re really interested in supporting us, bashing our churches for being “backward,” “sexist,” and “homophobic” is not the way to do it. Celibate LGBT Christians who are part of these traditions likely understand and agree with their respective teachings on marriage and sexuality. Often, this acceptance has come after much careful thought and prayer. Please honor the care we have taken in forming our consciences and avoid reducing our beliefs to, “Don’t have sex because a homophobic church says so.” It’s also possible that you might have a misunderstanding about what our Christian traditions teach on marriage and human sexuality. Asking us about this instead of relying solely on your own biases is a much better way to start a supportive conversation.

10. Understand that celibate LGBT people will have different experiences of celibacy. There are celibate LGBT people who feel happy, fulfilled, and blessed in their vocations. There are also celibate LGBT people who see celibacy as misery and a most horrible cross to bear. Both realities exist. The presence of one does not negate the presence of the other. It is not helpful for any of us if you make blanket statements about celibacy as an oppressive manner of living. Celibacy is hard because all vocations are hard. Insisting that celibacy brings nothing but suffering invalidates the experiences of people who find joy in celibacy. It also robs people who are struggling with celibacy of any hope that they might find happiness in this way of life. Things haven’t always been peaches and cream for the two of us, and sometimes that’s still true. But if during past difficult times we had only encountered other Christians who degraded celibacy, we may have given up and might never have come to experience the joy we now find in our vocation.

11. Pray for us. Just like all other Christians, we need prayer. We have worries, fears, anxieties, and struggles. We endure trials in life, and we also experience times when we want to join with all our friends in prayers of praise and thanksgiving. All vocations bring challenges, and we need your prayers just as much as your sexually active LGBT friends need them. Instead of praying that God shows us how wrong we are to pursue celibacy, pray that we will be strengthened in our vocations. If you have a close relationship with us, it’s likely that we’re already praying for the same thing for you.

12. Love us just like you love all other LGBT people. As a person with a modern, liberal sexual ethic, you probably know more than most how often LGBT people experience affronts to our dignity and worth. Both celibate and sexually active LGBT people suffer because of hatred and intolerance of all kinds. One of the best things you can do to support celibate LGBT Christians is to remind us of how much God loves us, and to show us that love in your own words and actions. This means loving us just as we are rather than in spite of our celibacy. This means desiring what is best for us, even if that doesn’t square with what you want for us. This also means standing up for us just as you would stand up for any other person experiencing an injustice, and helping to make sure we don’t experience a double dose of discrimination because of how few people in today’s world respect the celibate way of life.

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.

12 Ways People with a Traditional Sexual Ethic Can Be More Supportive of Celibate LGBT Christians

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Since we wrote on 10 Things We Wish Our Church Family Knew and 9 Things We Wish Straight Allies Knew, we’ve been reflecting on the best advice to offer straight Christians who are interested in being more supportive of, specifically, celibate LGBT Christians. Here, we’ve listed 12 items that we see as most important for people who believe in a traditional sexual ethic to understand. Please comment at the bottom of this post if you can think of other bits of helpful advice. Tomorrow, we will be releasing a similar post aimed at straight Christians who hold to a modern, liberal sexual ethic. Update: you can read that post here.

1. Treat us as you would treat any other member of your church. We are people, and we are sinners just like every other person in your congregation. Expect that we will have many of the same interests and concerns as other members of your church. Know that we want to be just as involved in the life of the parish as everyone else. Treating us as though we are somehow different can be hurtful, whether your assumption is benign as, “Those people must be here to make a statement,” or as egregious as, “Those people are sexual deviants who are here to corrupt my children.”

2. Look beyond the culture wars. Even if you believe there is a “gay agenda,” we can assure you that the only agenda most LGBT people are concerned with is being able to live our daily lives in peace. Be mindful of the language you use when expressing disapproval of LGBT-related events, movements, and legislation. The LGBT members of your church likely have varied opinions on culture war issues like gay marriage, and it is incorrect to assume that an LGBT person who attends your church is actively trying to change your denomination’s theology of marriage and sexuality. It’s likely that if the person has chosen celibacy, he/she accepts your denomination’s stance on these issues. But whether this is true or not for a particular celibate LGBT Christian, it’s still painful for all of us to be forced hear how “Gay people are destroying the social and moral fabric of America” at coffee hour. Also, don’t try to assign us a special duty to show sexually active LGBT Christians “the error of their ways.” We aren’t perfect, and we don’t sit a place of judgment. Any sexually active LGBT Christian who is interested in our celibacy is free to approach us to talk about this matter.

3. Show us that you’re a safe person. This can begin with something as simple as flashing us a smile or saying a friendly hello after the service has ended. Tell us that we’re welcome at church, and introduce us to other members of the congregation who we may not know so well. Open up to us about aspects of your own life as you feel comfortable. Indicate that you see us as people. It might take a while for us to reach back once you’ve reached out, but please do not take this as an insult. Many of us could do better at being communicative, but this is a challenge because we’ve experienced so much hurt in church environments in the past.

4. Get to know us. Invite us over for homemade pizza night. Have a board game day and ask us to bring Ticket to Ride. Ask about our hobbies and interests. Sarah enjoys sewing and could likely help your child with a project for scouts. Engineer Lindsey might be interested in bonding with your family over a model rocketry project. You might discover that we and your own family are crazy about The Chronicles of Narnia and an evening spent watching a movie together is just the thing all of us need after a stressful week of work and school. Find out what’s going on in our lives and ask us how we’re doing. Check in on us if you haven’t seen us at church in a couple of weeks. All these things let us know that you care about us.

5. Engage us in topics of conversation that don’t involve sexual morality. This may be hard to believe given the prominence of LGBT issues in the news, but most LGBT people probably don’t spend any more time thinking about sex than you do. As such, we might be interested in discussing sexual morality, but we might not. Celibate LGBT Christians do not need to be told again and again what the Bible says and what the Church teaches about same-sex sexual activity. We already know, and often we see denominational teachings on marriage and sexuality as vital elements in understanding our own vocations. We can engage in fruitful conversations with you about a wide range of spiritual and theological topics that do not involve sexuality: prayer, the ecumenical councils, our understandings of Christ, scripture readings, favorite saints, new spiritual disciplines we are trying, etc. Not every conversation you have with us needs to be about our views on chastity.

6. When we indicate that we’re comfortable talking about questions of sexual ethics, engage with us. As we said above, not every discussion needs to focus on sexuality, but that doesn’t mean the topic is off limits altogether. We might not always feel comfortable talking about it. Don’t push us, but don’t be afraid to ask questions. The worst we could say is, “We’re not comfortable talking about that right now.” We’re more likely to be willing if you’ve shown us that you’re a safe person. When we’re ready to discuss sexuality issues, we’ll be glad to have those conversations with you. Always be respectful of our boundaries and consider the purpose of the questions you’re asking. Is your query motivated by curiosity? If so, tell us that and leave us the option of not answering if we become uncomfortable mid-discussion. Does the question come from a desire to understand the lives of celibate LGBT Christians more fully? Those are our favorite types of questions to answer, and we’ll do so if it’s safe. Are you asking out of a desire to gauge our theological orthodoxy so you can report your findings to a religious leader in hopes that he’ll “rein us in” or force us to leave the church? This is not a good reason for asking us questions, and if this is the case, it’s likely we’ll be able to see through why you’ve suddenly become interested in us.

7. Respect the language we use when describing ourselves. Words like “gay” and “transgender” may not mean what you think they mean. When most gay people use the word “gay” as a descriptor, it is in reference to sexual orientation, not level of sexual activity. It’s inappropriate to tell a celibate gay Christian, “If you aren’t having sex, you aren’t gay.” It’s equally condescending to tell a celibate bisexual Christian, “If you meet someone of the opposite sex and decide to marry him/her, you’ll not be bisexual anymore.” Likewise, it is not correct to assume that a person identifying as “transgender” is necessarily interested in surgically altering his/her body, and the message, “You’re really a girl even though you feel like a boy,” can be profoundly alienating to a transgender person. Assigning the term “same-sex attracted” to a person just because you’re uncomfortable with your own presumptions about his/her preferred language is harmful and disrespectful of that person’s experience. At the same time, if a person would rather you use the term “same-sex attracted,” then use it. It’s always a good idea to ask a person about his/her preferred language, and it should never be assumed that someone’s choice of terms means a denial of his/her identity in Christ.

8. Acknowledge that you can learn from us and we can learn from you. As celibate LGBT Christians, we are just as much part of the Body of Christ as are all other Christians. Sometimes we do things well, other times we make mistakes. Sometimes we do what God asks of us, other times we fall short. Regardless, we are not your project, and you are not ours. We do not come to church for the experience of heterosexual, cisgender people teaching us “the right way” to follow Christ. Nor do we come to church with the attitude that because of our celibacy, we can teach you and everyone else “the right way” to follow Christ. We’re fallible, and we believe that Jesus is the best teacher for all of us. And along our shared journey towards Him, there are ways in which everyone can learn from everyone else.

9. Don’t assume that remaining celibate is our primary spiritual struggle. Not every heterosexual, cisgender Christian lives in a constant battle to maintain chastity. The same can be said for LGBT Christians. People, no matter their sexual orientations and gender identities, have varying levels of sexual desire. It doesn’t make sense to suggest that because someone is part of the LGBT community, living celibacy is any harder than it is for a heterosexual, cisgender person. Do not assume that a celibate LGBT Christian sees his/her sexual orientation or gender identity as “a cross to bear.” Many of us are just as comfortable with our choice to pursue celibacy as we are with all other aspects of life. And we deal with the same sins as you do: pride, anger, greed, etc. Often, the potential for engaging in these sins is much greater than the potential for engaging in sexual sin.

10. If we are struggling with celibacy, show compassion. Sometimes, we do struggle with celibacy because no vocation is easy. The demands of serving Christ in the world as celibate singles or celibate couples are great, and no Christian tradition provides us with all the guidance we need for living celibacy outside a monastery. Some celibate LGBT people do see their sexualities and gender identities as crosses. This doesn’t mean that those of us who take joy in celibacy are morally or spiritually stronger than those of us who don’t. Telling a person who is struggling with celibacy to, “Just bear your cross, do what God asks, and stay on the straight and narrow path,” isn’t helpful. Even we who feel greatly blessed within our celibate vocations sometimes need the space to cry out, “I just can’t do this anymore!” We imagine that on occasion, people who live the vocations of marriage and monasticism feel similarly. When we’re experiencing difficult seasons of life, say, “That sounds challenging. I’m sorry you’re hurting. How can I support you during this time?” We might not know how to respond in the moment, but we will be glad that you’ve asked.

11. Pray for us. We need prayer just like all other members of the Body of Christ. Prayer strengthens us in our vocations and gives us comfort when things are really hard. Our prayer needs will be similar to other Christians’ prayer needs, but might also be different. Celibacy as a way of life poses a unique set of challenges. However, if we request your prayers, please do not assume that necessarily means, “Sarah and Lindsey want me to pray that they can keep themselves from having sex. They’re struggling with sexual temptations.” There are LGBT Christians who do ask for prayer as they work towards living chastely, but it’s important to remember that celibacy is not just about sexual abstinence. When we are struggling in our celibate vocation, that could mean we’re experiencing difficulty in living radical hospitality, that we aren’t able to be as vulnerable as we would like, that our emotional intimacy needs aren’t being met, or that we’ve fallen away from certain spiritual disciplines.

12. Love us, and all LGBT people. As LGBT Christians, we hear a lot of, “Love the sinner, hate the sin,” and, “I love you enough to tell you that being gay is wrong.” But it’s rare that we see love from conservative, heterosexual, cisgender Christians. If you really love us so much, be willing to show us that by treating us as human beings with dignity and worth. And that includes all LGBT people, not just celibate LGBT Christians. God calls us to love people even if we don’t agree with their approaches to sexual morality and other matters. You can show us how much you love us by taking a stand when your coworker makes an inappropriate joke about sexual orientation, advocating for an end to discriminatory employment practices, and speaking out against LGBT-related human rights abuses in countries like Uganda. We’ll believe that you love us when you demonstrate it on a regular basis.

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.

Protected by celibacy?

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As we’ve been blogging, from time to time people have approached us with questions like, “Why do you care about LGBT people in the Church? You’re celibate. You don’t have anything to worry about.” People assume that because we’re celibate, we’ve checked the proverbial box that ensures that we’re safe in all Christian environments. Not to put too fine a point on our response, but that assumption couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Some people think that if we’re celibate, we’re not identifiable as members of the LGBT community. In truth, Lindsey’s never been able to pass as a cisgender, heterosexual person in terms of physical appearance. With a rather ambiguous build, short hair, and a penchant for khakis and button-down shirts, Lindsey fits many people’s stereotypes of what an LGBT person looks like. It doesn’t matter that Lindsey’s appearance has been mostly static since middle school. When Sarah is not with Lindsey, people generally assume Sarah–who has an unmistakably feminine appearance–is straight. However, we as a couple lose any privileges associated with passing as straight the instant Lindsey appears on the scene. To many people, that we show up as a pair and that and Lindsey is so visibly a member of the LGBT community are enough for them to make assumptions about our sexual ethics. Celibacy doesn’t even enter the picture.

Equally, our celibacy does not protect Sarah from facing backlash once people see us together. We’ve noticed in situation after situation how easily people’s comfort levels with Sarah change once they meet Lindsey and realize we’re together. One example of this came about when Lindsey was in the process of moving to Sarah’s city. During visits prior to the move, Lindsey attended services at Sarah’s parish with Sarah. Sarah had recently made that parish home, and was still relatively new there. While many people initially treated Sarah just like any other person, that began to change once they met Lindsey—and this was well before anyone had come to know us as a couple. Simply seeing us attend church together was enough to cause some to distance themselves from Sarah and hesitate to socialize with Lindsey at all.

Another issue is that a great many people have no understanding of what celibacy is and/or think “being gay” automatically means having sex. To these folks, the idea of celibacy as a way of life an LGBT person might adopt is foreign. The question they ask is not, “What is an appropriate sexual ethic for an LGBT person?” Instead, it’s, “Why isn’t this person willing to stop being gay?” When we are in the presence of people holding this perspective, our celibacy means nothing in conversation. If we try at all to discuss celibacy in response to someone’s assertion of, “The Church says you can’t be gay,” that gets us nowhere more often than not. Sometimes, the person will counter with, “Well, if you aren’t having sex, then you aren’t really gay,” followed by, “You could still get married to someone of the opposite sex if you wanted.” But generally, we don’t even get that much of a conversation going. The more typical response we hear is, “Huh?” with no further attempt at engaging us in discussion ever again. In these situations, our celibacy does nothing to protect us because the person isn’t comfortable talking about sexual ethics in the first place.

Additionally, people frequently associate celibacy with singleness. To these people, we cannot be celibate because we are in a relationship with one another. We find this assumption to be entirely problematic because it misrepresents celibacy. Celibacy as a way of life is deeply rooted in community. Monastic communities provide insight into how people have lived Christ-centered celibate lives for hundreds of years. Conversely, living alone in an apartment far from one’s family of origin is arguably one of the newest ways of life. Yet, an identifiably solitary life is the dominant image most people have of modern celibacy. Because many people associate celibacy with singleness, they cannot grasp the idea that we’re a celibate couple, let alone consider what that might mean for our lives as LGBT Christians. These people can only see us members of the LGBT community and make assumptions about our activity from there. We’re no strangers to the accusation that we have rejected a celibate way of life because we’re in a relationship.

We totally understand that celibacy is a queer calling. Many people just don’t get it. While at first glance it may seem that celibate LGBT people are protected by their celibacy, we (and other individuals in similar situations) often encounter a double helping of misconceptions about both celibacy and LGBT topics. We’re consistently read in social situations as “not heterosexual,” a reading which in and of itself invites a considerable amount of accusations.

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.

Adventures in Praying Together

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A reflection by Sarah

“The poor shall eat and be satisfied and the hungry shall be filled with good things. O Master Christ our God, bless the food and drink of these, thy servants, for you are holy always, now, and ever, and unto ages of ages. Amen.”

That’s the blessing Lindsey says over every meal we share together. Since the first time Lindsey and I joined over Skype for dinner, I’ve known that I can count on hearing this prayer at least once a day. It has become a key element in our shared spiritual life, and during certain seasons it has been the only prayer we’ve consistently engaged in together.

Concerning spirituality, Lindsey and I have discovered that we take very different approaches. Our dissimilar preferences are likely rooted in the two distinctive contexts in which we came to faith. Sometimes, I find myself surprised that we both ended up in the Christian tradition we now share, traveling to it from pathways so unalike. I grew up in a Christian family and was exposed to a variety of Christian spiritualities from childhood through college. Though I lived in an area where the Freewill, United, and Southern Baptist denominations dominate the religious landscape, I knew early on that I felt God’s presence most profoundly in liturgical worship. I’ve always believed in God, but if I had to identify a specific “this is real and I accept it” moment in my faith journey, I’d say without hesitation that it was during a Eucharistic holy hour one autumn when I was 18. I knelt in silence before the tabernacle in a rural Kentucky Catholic church and felt Christ’s presence as I never had before. I was overcome with peace and relief from the anxiety I had been attempting to ward off earlier that day, and I knew without a doubt that I was kneeling before Christ himself.

In contrast to my experience, Lindsey grew up not going to church and first became part of a faith community by playing electric bass in a praise band. Lindsey made a personal commitment to Christ during Lindsey’s freshman year of high school at a youth event, and later became active in various evangelical ministries during college. Because Lindsey came to faith within a contemporary, evangelical context–a world which was almost totally foreign to me until college–there have been times when I’ve experienced difficulty understanding Lindsey’s spirituality. One example of this is that I’ve never been especially drawn to free-formed prayer. It doesn’t come naturally, and historically I’ve had some experiences with spiritually abusive free-formed prayer. Whether my intention is to praise God, to give thanks, to ask forgiveness, or to cry out for help, I’m more apt to search the traditional prayers of the Church for something appropriate than to begin with my own words. Typically, I’ve found greater comfort in the rosary or prayer rope devotion than in approaching God informally. Lindsey, on the other hand, can articulate any diversity of prayer intentions with eloquence, yet in a conversational manner. I remember once after we first met, I asked Lindsey to pray for me regarding a health issue, and a second later Lindsey was responding to that request on the fly with an evangelical-style free-formed prayer. It took me a moment to catch up with what was happening. I recall staring blankly at Lindsey afterward and asking, “How did you do that?”

As Lindsey and I have been developing a way of life together, we’ve had many conversations about how different our processes were for coming into our shared Christian tradition. Lindsey first felt compelled to explore this tradition after attending Liturgy and observing the centrality of the Gospel in worship, making connections between this and the emphasis evangelical Christianity places on spreading the Gospel and encountering Christ in a personal way. Having been part of a liturgical tradition previously, I was attracted initially to the level of reverence people within this tradition have for the Liturgy and sacraments, and the mystical (and in many ways, organic) approach to theological issues I had previously been exposed to in more legalistic terms. Lindsey and I enjoy praying together during Liturgy, and because of the differences in our backgrounds sharing the experience and talking about it afterward becomes even more fascinating. Often, we’ll spend the drive home on Sunday discussing our responses to and observations during worship that day, and frequently the conversation will lead me to further reflection on my own experience based on what I’ve learned from Lindsey’s.

We learn a great deal from observing each other’s personal devotional practices and experimenting with ways to draw connections between our individual spiritualities. Sometimes, I see a bit of Lindsey rubbing off on me. There are times when I can sense the Holy Spirit’s presence during one of Lindsey’s powerful free-formed prayers—sometimes so much that when I need Lindsey to pray for me I ask, “Could you channel your former evangelical self for a moment?” And while I’m sure I’ll always prefer Gregorian and Byzantine chant to contemporary Christian music, thanks to the influence of Lindsey’s former praise band experience I find myself asking Lindsey to turn the car radio to our local praise and worship station occasionally. At the same time, Lindsey has begun to take great joy in asking me historical questions about the Liturgy and occasionally praying one of my favorite litanies with me when I’m feeling the need to be surrounded by the entire communion of saints. Our personal quirks and their impact on each other make for a rather unique learning experience as we approach the question of how best to cultivate a shared spiritual life.

In some seasons, we’ve made a regular practice of praying parts of the Divine Office together. In others, we have gravitated more toward praying individually, but joining together in discussion of scripture and spiritual reading materials. Still in others, the only prayer rule we’ve been able to follow jointly is Lindsey’s blessing over our evening meal. Endeavoring to pray together consistently is a challenge, and I imagine it will be for the rest of our lives together. We’re still learning how to appreciate and honor each other’s spiritualities because we believe it important to respect the different ways we came to know God individually prior to meeting each other. We see all of this as yet another adventure, and are eager to see all the places it will lead us along our journey towards Christ.

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Unlocking the Feast within the Fast

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A reflection by Lindsey

I received a phone call recently from a dear friend. She thought of me because it’s Lent and she doesn’t know anyone who loves Lent more than I do. Every time a friend mentions the Lenten season, I can’t help but smile.

My love of Lent began almost immediately as I started exploring Christianity. I was attending a Lutheran church that had regular Wednesday night soup suppers before a Lenten service series. The theme of the first Lenten series I attended was “Can you drink of this cup?” During the first week we received a small clay cup, and we received items to put into our cup during subsequent weeks. My cup is still on the bookcase in “my” room at my parents’ house. I immediately associated Lent with more communal gatherings and a focused effort to grow closer to Christ.

In college, I attended an Evangelical Protestant church that didn’t make a big deal about the liturgical calendar. Nonetheless, the community believed that God did awesome things when we took time to fast and pray. We started taking a 40 day period before Easter to pray for God to pour His blessings out on us as individuals, on our friends, and on our church. The pastoral team prepared various guides to encourage us to read through a chosen set of Scriptures and to suggest different faith experiments related to prayer and fasting.

Since that time, I’ve become aware of an ancient fasting tradition during the Lenten season that still lives in Eastern rite churches (Orthodox, Eastern Catholic, and some Protestant groups seeking to discover the early Church). The tradition exhorts people to abstain from meat, dairy, eggs, fish with a backbone, wine, and olive oil during penitential seasons and twice a week outside penitential seasons. Like many fasting traditions, it suggests a certain discipline around eating with the expressed intention of helping a person grow spiritually. The ancient wisdom has 2 other teachers: prayer and almsgiving. To be clear: I don’t consider myself to be a good student of any of these teachers. Yet I find that approaching the Lenten season with joy unlocks the feast within the fast.

I’ve found myself gradually shifting towards the Eastern rite fasting disciplines because my local church communities try to keep the Eastern rite guidelines around food. It’s been important to do so gradually because I had to learn to cook first. During the ordinary times of the church year, I rely on easy-to-prepare staple foods that use roughly the same ingredients. Each fast paradoxically presents a new invitation to deepen my appreciation of food. The year I was most observant in the dietary rules was the year I decided to avoid eating out at restaurants during the Lenten period. Having to go to the grocery store regularly caused me to experiment with different combinations of new grains, various vegetables, and beans. Last year, I discovered that avocados have a similar texture to cheese in a lot of dishes. Who knew? Sarah’s higher protein needs have spurred me onward to exploring previously uncharted protein categories of lentils, shrimp, and crab. I haven’t arrived fully yet, but I do enjoy trying. In “fasting” for a season, I actually haven’t lost any foods that I love: I’ve grown in my love for diverse foods, eating a fuller array.

Taking on a certain discipline as a community has a way of bringing people together as a family. You will always have the person who think it’s impossible to eat any foods that follow the guidelines, the person scouring the labels to determine if a particular item has any “forbidden” ingredients, the family quietly inviting lost newcomers to come over for dinner, the person who reminds you that the guidelines emerged during a different place and time, people sick of eating peanut butter and/or lentils, and folks eagerly swapping recipes. Sometimes the same individual falls into multiple categories.

The communal nature of the fasting discipline creates a lot of space for conversations. Looking at my own experiences as a guide, the feast of the Lenten fast can be found in community. No matter what Christian tradition I’ve been a part of, people have made time to come together, pray, and eat during Lent. I find it amusing that churches have more meals together during “fasting” periods than they do in “ordinary” time. Care to pass the guacamole?

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.