Category Archives: Vocation

A temporary vocation?

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While Sarah was working on an academic research project last week, we were shuffling through some photocopied archival materials that included surveys of young people from the 1930s-1940s who had decided to leave a particular lay Christian social action movement after having been involved for varying lengths of time. One of the survey questions asked, “Why did you decide to leave?” Though almost every former member had expressed continuing dedication to the movement’s purpose and goals, Sarah noticed that the vast majority cited “temporary vocation” as the primary reason for separating from the movement. It seems that most who left had joined anticipating that someday, they would be moving on to more “permanent” vocations or perhaps other “temporary” ones.

The phrase, “temporary vocation” has never sat well with either of us. Our own understanding of the term “vocation” is a lifelong commitment to a particular way of serving God and others. Because of this, we find it curious that people frequently suggest, “Maybe celibacy is a temporary vocation for you two.” We can understand why the idea of being called to lifelong celibacy, especially within the context of a relationship like ours, might seem perplexing from an outsider’s perspective. We are also aware that this suggestion usually comes from people with the best of intentions. However, today, we would like to offer some thoughts on the problem that arises when one refers to vocations as “temporary.”

When someone suggests that our vocation to celibacy might not be permanent, the question, “What if your Christian tradition’s teaching on sexual morality changes?” sometimes follows. Most people in our lives know we are part of a church that holds to a traditional sexual ethic, so it’s reasonable to infer that our own sense of call is in some way related to our tradition’s teachings. It is true that we have drawn upon the resources present within our Christian tradition to discern our vocations, both individually and together. At the same time, our decision to embark on the journey of a celibate partnership is voluntary. We did not make the choice to live celibacy as a result of feeling backed into a corner by the Church. We have committed freely to living life together in this way. Therefore, if the teachings of our Christian tradition on sexual morality ever were to change (and we do not believe this will happen), it would have no impact upon our chosen vocation. We are not attempting to cultivate a celibate vocation because of fear that we have to or else face divinely imposed consequences. We are doing so because we want to—because we believe celibacy is an important part of God’s plan for us.

Speaking of “temporary vocation” implies that vocations in general do not require dedication, commitment, and willingness to live into God’s call during the hard times. Last week, we wrote for the first time on the vocation of marriage and prepared for that topic by asking married people to educate us on their ways of life. Writing that post got us thinking about two different messages we’ve heard about marriage: 1) it’s a forever commitment, and 2) approximately half the time, it ends in divorce. On the one hand, it’s likely that few people enter a marriage thinking, “Maybe this is a temporary vocation.” Neither of us has ever known of a person advising a newlywed couple that they should consider the possibility of marriage being temporary. Maybe we’re letting optimism get in the way here, but most people we know who are married or anticipate getting married someday accept that the vocation to marriage is intended as a lifelong commitment. On the other hand, even if most individuals don’t view marriage as a “temporary vocation,” it’s clear that our society does. Both of us have family members and friends who have experienced divorce and remarriage, so we are not suggesting that divorce is always a morally unjustifiable occurrence. But it’s true that now more than in decades past, it has become acceptable to end a marriage—a lifelong commitment—for virtually any reason: personality conflicts, financial hardship, impotency, one spouse’s irritation with the other’s pet python. In a sense, marriage is becoming even more of a temporary than permanent vocation in the eyes of American and some other western societies.

It makes sense that if many people are coming to see marriage as a way of life that does not require an everlasting commitment, some might also have trouble seeing how celibate vocations demand just as much dedication. We have seen firsthand that the general population does not view consecrated religious life as a permanent vocation. A friend of Sarah’s, whom we will call Molly, spent over two years of her time in law school discerning a vocation to a particular Roman Catholic religious order. Upon graduation, Molly became a postulant and started her journey toward taking vows. During this time, Molly’s mother insisted that in a year, Molly would come to realize that she wasn’t actually called to be a nun. However, Molly came alive inside the monastery. She loved the community’s spiritual life and looked forward to one day working in the Catholic schools operated by the order. A year later, Molly entered the novitiate and took the name Sister Maria. Her mother maintained that she would be better off married and would eventually come to see this before taking vows. Not long ago, Sister Maria made first vows, and her mother is still waiting for her to leave this vocation and return home. Decades ago, this would not have been a typical reaction from a parent whose child entered a Roman Catholic religious order.

Proposing that the vocation to celibate partnership (or at least the celibate aspect of it) is temporary is much the same as stating that other types of celibate vocations are also temporary states of life. We do believe that in certain circumstances, people can commit to celibacy for a defined period of time. This was, in fact, the situation for most young people who were part of the Christian social action movement that Sarah was researching last week. But we think it is far too easy to assume that celibacy is a lifestyle one can choose to end at the drop of a hat (or the drop of one’s pants). One doesn’t need divorce papers or an annulment in order to stop living celibacy. Leaving a religious order is quite an involved process, but doesn’t exactly require the division of assets, attorney fees, custody battles, etc. that often come along with legally ending a marriage. And in the eyes of many, choosing not to continue in a celibate vocation that doesn’t entail religious vows is as simple as saying, “I don’t want to do this anymore.” But this isn’t the case for people who understand celibacy as a vocation and not just sexual abstinence.

The two of us exist in an almost completely uncharted territory somewhere between monasticism and marriage. Celibate monastics take vows to God and to their communities, making their commitments to this vocation visible. Married people in some traditions take vows to each other before God and their faith communities in a formal ceremony, making their vocation known to the world. As there is no exact analog to either for celibate couples like us, it is challenging to put the commitment we have made to each other into words. Because of this, people tend to classify us incorrectly as a couple living a unique sort of marriage. And perhaps that is why we’re often assumed to be living in a “temporary” celibate vocation.

To suggest that celibate vocations like ours will not stand the test of time is to question the robustness of other kinds of vocations as well. We believe that all vocations require steadfastness and acceptance that life will not always be easy, pleasant, or ideal. All vocations have the ability to grow if nurtured and the ability to wither if left improperly attended. The phrase “temporary vocation” may seem innocuous, but we see it as little more than shorthand for, “a way of life I can leave when its demands become too great.”

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Defining Marriage

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Since releasing our “Defining celibacy” post over a month ago, we’ve received over one hundred questions about its content from our readers. These inquiries fall into three general categories: 1) questions about how our definition of “celibacy” differs from how many people would define “marriage,” 2) questions about how we would define “marriage,” and 3) questions about how we understand our specific kind of celibate vocation relative to other celibate vocations. We are eager to respond to each of these in time, and today we hope to make a beginning at dialoguing with our readers on numbers 1 and 2.

In today’s post, we make our first attempt at exploring how one might define the vocation of marriage. We are adamant that celibate vocations are best defined by celibate people, and we are equally convinced that the vocation to marriage is best defined by people who are married. We believe it would be inappropriate for us to discuss what marriage is without asking for the input of those who are married. Over the past several weeks, we’ve been collecting responses to the questions, “How would you define the term ‘marriage’? What does ‘marriage’ mean to you?” via our Facebook and Twitter accounts, and through personal conversations with people we know who have been married for varying lengths of time. We’ve communicated with younger couples and older couples, gay, straight, and bisexual couples, religious and nonreligious couples (some with one person of each), couples who have experienced divorce and are currently in their second or third marriages, and couples who have been married for decades. We’ve also spoken with a number of married pastors who have shared with us what topics they find important to raise in pre-marital counseling sessions. What we’ve come to realize is that there are perhaps as many definitions for marriage as there are married couples, and sometimes within a marriage the two partners will have different understandings of the term.

Some of our respondents focused on how marriage provides a way for two people to enjoy life together and become the best they both can be:

“Marriage, to me, is loving someone enough to give things up to help them achieve their life goals, knowing they will do the same for you. And having fun and having intellectual conversations along the way. So marriage is living each day knowing you’re helping making yourself and someone else a better person.” –Shae

Other respondents emphasized emotional intimacy, physical attraction, and commitment as key elements in defining marriage:

“I feel like I’ve found the person who is enough like me that we can truly understand each other and different enough from me that we can have our autonomy and entertain one another. We are also very physically attracted to each other, which, for us, feels important. I think the institution of marriage is neat because once you’ve found someone you truly enjoy and trust, you can make a decision to take on the world together. We make each other better, more productive people. It’s an accountability system in a way. Ideally, marriage also provides you with a partner who cares more about you than anyone or anything else in the world. I have an immense feeling of emotional security as well as physical security in my marriage. We also pick up the slack for each other in areas like household chores and bill paying. We are a team. My favorite thing about being married is having a best friend that I can share intimacy, intelligence and laughter with…but who is soothing and present for me when I’ve had the worst day in the world and just need kind words and for someone else to make me dinner. Which he does.” –Mary

A large number of respondents defined marriage within the context of their specific religious traditions:

“I’m Catholic, so I believe that marriage requires not only a lifelong commitment, but also openness to children. That is essential to the way I believe God intends married couples to serve the world. Whether they actually have children or not isn’t the point. It’s that they’re always open to bringing new life into the world, providing a home for children who were brought into the world by other people, or both. In my faith, that’s what marriage is. But I understand that isn’t how everyone understands marriage. Openness to children isn’t a foundational element of marriage in all religions, or even in other Christian traditions. If somebody isn’t religious, or is Protestant, or is Hindu and decides that being open to children isn’t a necessary part of their marriage, I’m not going to tell them they aren’t really married. That’s just wrong. I think married people need to respect that there are many ways people in the world talk about marriage.” –Anne Marie

We were also honored that a few readers trusted us with deeply personal details of struggles in their marriages, claiming that these trying times have made their marriages stronger and have proven to them that marriage is truly “for better or for worse.” One reader shared with us that after weathering the challenges of post-traumatic stress disorder, job loss, and financial troubles, she and her husband were dangerously close to ending their marriage, but found the strength within themselves to fight for each other and the life they share:

“[My husband] and I have both agreed that if one feels neglected by the other we must wave our flag high at that point and retreat to devote ourselves to one another again. We don’t wait until it’s late in the game either, we find time for one another immediately. We have stayed together and come out stronger through things that would tear most people apart. I can honestly say because all of the horrible times I love my husband more now than I ever did, because he (like I) decided to run this race with me. We have a bond that love cannot even begin to define. I know that no matter what happens, he’s going to be beside me. I’ve thought a lot about prearranged marriage, and while I am thankful that I did get to choose my mate, I know why so many prearranged marriages lasted, while so many “loving” marriages of today don’t last. People today are so ready to give up. They toss in the towel at the first stumbling block, if that. People actually enter marriages with the thought that if they don’t like it they can always get divorced…No one is held accountable to stay married…I’m not saying I’m against divorce and I realize there are certain situations where it cannot be avoided, but the rapid rate of divorce is despicable… If I had to define marriage I would say commitment, along with perseverance and hard work which can lead to an unbreakable bond.” -Kristen

We selected the above responses from the 37 we received in total. If we’d had time to discuss this topic with more people, we’re sure we would have encountered an even greater diversity of ideas about the definition of marriage.

When reading the responses, we began to notice many commonalities. It became clear to us that every married person who responded expressed love for his or her spouse. Other similarities we noticed were assertions that marriage involves doing life together, being present for one another, and experiencing shared intimacy. Among our respondents who affiliate strongly with a religious tradition (mostly Christianity), the eternal nature of the marriage commitment and emphases on shared faith-based values arose frequently. Responses received from married pastors who conduct pre-marital counseling showed a common theme of focusing on conflict resolution and the practical aspects of living out a marriage commitment. Some indicated that “family” and “children” were among the most essential topics, but these were not the majority. Likewise, we noticed that the majority of our married respondents in general did not include “children” or “openness to children” in their definitions of marriage.

Thinking back to our aforementioned “Defining celibacy” post, you might be wondering if all this information has caused us to reevaluate the vocation we feel called to live together. It’s true that many qualities mentioned in these definitions of marriage are also present in our relationship. More than one reader has suggested that when we describe our understanding of our shared vocation, we are actually talking about a “celibate marriage.” If married people tend to agree that marriage involves commitment, intimacy, being willing to work through difficult situations, and sharing a set of values, couldn’t our relationship be considered a “marriage” of sorts? Perhaps. But here’s another bit of food for thought: every item we just listed is also present in other types of human relationships. Perseverance, closeness, willingness to stay when things get complicated, and so on…one could find all of these qualities just as vibrantly in monastic communities as in marriages. Furthermore, many of these characteristics describe healthy church communities and also relationships a person might have with very close friends or his/her “family of choice.” Would we feel comfortable defining all relationships with these characteristics as “marriages”?

Our first try at defining celibacy focused on vulnerability, commitment, radical hospitality, and shared spiritual life. Could all of these aspects also be present in the vocation of marriage? Absolutely. It could be that these four characteristics are at the heart of all vocations, but manifest differently in each. We do not believe that defining a term must necessarily mean defining it against another in every possible way, especially when related to people’s senses of calling in life. We’ve found that if someone asks us to define “celibacy,” more often than not, that person anticipates that we will discuss celibate vocations in terms of how they are different from rather than similar to marriage. However, when we say that vocations allow people to reflect the Kingdom of God, we expect that all kinds of vocation will have certain commonalities.

In the future, we would like to explore more deeply some of the differences we see between marriage and our celibate partnership. One major point of difference that keeps coming back to us is our sense of call to serving the broader world rather than focusing as much on service to a narrower sense family. We do consider each other “family” and have made a decision to expand our family in the future, but we have no idea what that means or who it will bring into our lives. Within our Christian tradition, the majority of married people would contend that openness to children is an essential element of marriage. This is not to suggest that marriages in other traditions (or nonreligious marriages) with other definitions of the term somehow fall short of “true marriages,” but to say that we have a particular framework from our faith tradition that impacts our understanding of what a marriage within that branch of Christianity would look like. While we aren’t opposed to the idea of welcoming children into our life in some capacity, we don’t feel that God is calling us to the specific work of raising children. We would like to explore other ways of opening our home to people with various needs who have no other place to find support, and we see that as an essential part of our celibate vocation. Feel free to ask questions about this, as we intend to address it further in future posts.

Discerning vocation can be, and often is, a complicated task. It is helpful to get to know people living out diverse vocations as we discern the best language for describing our particular type of celibate vocation. We learn just as many lessons from married couples as we do from monastics and individuals pursuing other varieties of celibate vocations. We think that because marriage is such a dominant vocational pathway in our society, many people have cultivated an expansive definition of “marriage.” It is our hope that by discussing the celibate vocation, our readers will come to a deeper appreciation of the diversity within celibate vocations.

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.

Learning from other couples

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Today we will be addressing a question that we have gotten from several readers: “How do you feel about other LGBT couples who say they are not called to celibacy?” We think this question is important because we live at a time where many Christian traditions have gone “on the record” about the need for LGBT people to live celibate lives.

Many people who have asked us this question indicate that they have met celibate, LGBT Christians who are very triumphant in their celibacy and avoid interacting with any other LGBT people who are not living celibate lives, or who anticipate becoming sexually active at some point in life. We would like to be clear: we reject the idea that celibate LGBT Christians should be triumphant in their celibacy. Celibate, LGBT Christians would do well to remember that all vocations are fragile and that radical hospitality lies at the heart of a celibate vocation. Lindsey has experienced the negative aftermath of triumphantly asserting one’s ability to draw “right” boundaries to establish “proper” conduct. From our observations, many of the most triumphant celibate, LGBT Christians seem to glorify their ability to stay on the right side of “the line” used to define sexual acts. We believe that such people confuse sexual abstinence with the idea of celibacy as a vocation.

People enter celibate vocations by making choices. Vocational choices are influenced by a number of important factors that include, but are not limited to, one’s Christian tradition, one’s sense of an appropriate career pathway, one’s network of relational possibilities, and one’s economic circumstances. We believe it is manifestly inappropriate to assert that these factors are identical for all LGBT Christians. The purpose of one’s vocation is to provide a pathway to holiness where one can learn to love and grow in Christ-likeness.

We have been blessed to know many LGBT Christian couples. The majority of these couples would assert that they do not feel called to celibacy. Furthermore, a significant faction of these couples come from Christian traditions that have some sort of provision for the blessing of committed, monogamous same-sex relationships. We have observed that triumphalism gets in the way of building relationships with people whose approaches to sexual ethics differ from one’s own approach. We refuse to take the path of triumphalism and demand that these couples devote themselves to learning from us. We don’t see ourselves as having all (or perhaps any) of the right answers to complex ethical questions.

When we think about faith-filled same-sex couples who do not feel they are called to celibacy, a few of our friends come to mind. We have sincerely appreciated the opportunity to get to know them more and feel privileged that they have shared their life together as a couple with us. As an LGBT Christian couple ourselves, we relate easily to many of their life experiences. As friends, we rarely discuss sexual matters. Honestly, we do not give two figs to know the intimate details of our friends’ relationships. Such details are rarely relevant and can only be shared in friendships characterized by mutual respect and regard. Even in the closest of friendships, many people just aren’t that interested in talking about their sex lives. We’ve been so encouraged by meeting other LGBT Christian couples at different life stages, and we are profoundly grateful for the ability to call these people friends. We thank God for connecting us with these couples, and we’re grateful for all of the things they have taught us over the years. We’d like to share with you, our readers, some of the things we’ve learned from some of our LGBT friends who do not feel called to celibacy.

A commitment to staying present when things are incredibly challenging

Charlie is Lindsey’s brother from another mother. Charlie is an exceptionally gifted listener, always willing to pray through some of the most difficult parts of life’s journey. Whenever Lindsey or Charlie needs support, the two of them have an almost instant response to reach out to one another. You could say that this inspired Charlie to discuss with Lindsey various aspects of his relationship with Isaac when things were really difficult.

At first, both Charlie’s family and Isaac’s family had a hard time accepting their relationship. That’s saying things a bit too kindly… Isaac wound up moving into Charlie’s apartment much earlier than expected because Isaac was kicked out of the house when his family found out he was gay. Charlie worried about the potential consequences of his boyfriend living with him, but came to the conclusion that his couch was a better home than Isaac’s car. As their relationship moved towards greater commitment, Charlie’s family had a hard time navigating questions around whether they would support Charlie’s wedding. Charlie and Lindsey spent hours on the phone. Lindsey had a huge lightbulb moment upon realizing that, beyond a shadow of a doubt, Charlie’s Christian parents had certainly grown in their understanding of sexual morality over the course of their relationship. All of a sudden, sexual morality became a dynamic reality rather than well-packaged gift that must always be preserved at all costs.

For us, Charlie and Isaac have always been an example of a couple overwhelmingly committed to Christ. They constantly discern whether anything in their relationship needs to shift in order to show the love of Christ more fully to the other, and inspire us to do the same.

A generous hospitality that welcomes everyone to a safe place

When we’re getting ready to hang out with James and Bryan, we know that we should remember to bring the board games. All sorts of conversation can flow over Ticket to Ride or Catchphrase. James and Bryan are incredibly friendly people who have a knack at making other people feel welcome.

James and Bryan are intellectually honest, gracious, and committed to hospitality. As a couple, they’ve weathered the challenges of living in a long-distance relationship yet have appeared to have come out on the other side looking as fabulous as ever. The time we spent a few states apart at the beginning of our own relationship was just a few months, so we can only imagine the difficulties of maintaining a long-distance relationship for several years. We’re always drawn to couples who have made such relationships work. With James’ and Bryan’s obvious commitment to generous conversation, we’re not terribly surprised that their relationship grew and thrived. We admire how James and Bryan have searched their respective Christian traditions to discern their life together.

We have been impressed time and time again with James’ and Bryan’s generosity. Bryan once shared a syllabus with Sarah when they realized they taught courses with overlapping topics. They care a lot about creating safe places for LGBT Christians to discuss issues around faith, sexuality, and gender identity. Getting to know James and Bryan helps us to see a concrete example of radical hospitality lived out before us.

A patient endurance when asking difficult theological questions

Lindsey has known David for several years. David has offered one model as to how LGBT Christians could reconcile faith, sexuality, and gender identity within our Christian tradition. A high school teacher by day, David is surprisingly willing to dialog with any number of people asking hard questions about faith, sexuality, and gender identity in his free time. David and Glenn have been together for decades, providing a living witness that long-term LGBT relationships are possible.

Because David is a member of our own Christian tradition, he’s been able to encourage us as we find our way. He reminds us of how to have discussions on LGBT topics within our tradition. His patience, particularly with Lindsey, has helped us develop a gracious approach even when official statements seem to do little more than frame the celibacy mandate in a very polemical manner. David and Glenn recently hosted Lindsey when Lindsey visited their city. Although we occasionally have come to differing conclusions about how to navigate aspects of our shared Christian tradition, we have been able to develop a deep respect for the faithfulness of all involved. Learning from David and Glenn often means being challenged to think outside our own sets of assumptions, and we are always glad to engage with their perspectives.

To sum up, we make a conscious choice to reject celibate triumphalism. We find the suggestion that we have nothing to learn from people in other kinds of partnerships absolutely absurd. We’re so grateful that God has given us an incredible network of friends who want to share their lives with us. And we look forward to the opportunity to walk alongside even more people as we continue our journey.

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 We Met

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Of all the questions we receive via email and Twitter, “How did you two meet?” and “How did you become a couple?” are probably the most common. Because so many of our readers have asked, today we would like to tell you that story.

Our relationship began as a friendship that arose organically. We met unexpectedly via our participation in the Gay Christian Network’s online community. When Sarah first joined GCN, Sarah was experiencing a great deal of loneliness and was seeking new friendships. Sarah was in a relationship that would unravel over the next few months and was having trouble coping with that reality. Lindsey had been a member of GCN for several years by the time Sarah joined, and happened to say hello after Sarah had made an introduction to the community. We had a few brief interactions, and Lindsey introduced Sarah to one of Lindsey’s gay male friends who was local in Sarah’s city.

Eventually, an incident on the message boards involving another member in need of help brought Sarah and Lindsey into more intentional conversation with one another. We realized that we had many common interests and enjoyed discussing a variety of topics together. We talked about our doctoral dissertations, our students, the interest we shared in using our very different types of academic training to address issues of poverty and social justice, our spiritualities, and our shared woes associated with being graduate students. We were astonished at how naturally and easily we were able to support each other during difficult times. Sarah offered to wake up extra early and listen to a trial run the morning of Lindsey’s dissertation proposal defense, and Lindsey offered a listening ear and a great deal of helpful advice when Sarah was scrambling to save the aforementioned long-term relationship. When Sarah’s relationship did come to an end, Lindsey was there to listen when Sarah needed to cry, vent, or just have someone on the other end of the phone line while indulging in some Ben and Jerry’s.

Sarah was not anticipating entering a committed relationship again so soon, but within a few weeks after the breakup, it became clear that Sarah’s and Lindsey’s friendship was deepening. Lindsey came to Sarah’s city for a weekend to visit another friend, and the two of us were able to spend some time together in person.  While acknowledging that Sarah would still need more time, we decided that when it felt right to move forward, we wanted to explore the possibility of doing life together more purposefully. We had no idea what this was going to look like, but we thought it sounded like an adventure.

Because we had such a positive experience with a long-distance friendship, we continued discerning how living four states apart would affect our relationship as it developed, and we met each other’s families and friends. In the weeks and months that followed, we came into regular patterns of being there for one another, experiencing an ever-growing sense of emotional intimacy. We started to recall our previous explorations of celibacy as individuals, and soon saw that we felt mutually drawn to cultivating a celibate vocation within the context of a shared life. In late spring, Lindsey received a job offer in Sarah’s city totally out of the blue. We discussed the idea of living together and whether we were ready for that. After a great deal of prayer, planning, and searching for living quarters that would be sufficient for two humans and two mischievous felines, we moved into our first apartment. Since then, God has continued to reveal to us new and meaningful ways of helping each other as we work out our salvation with fear and trembling. We find ourselves absolutely loving sharing life together, and we look forward to many more years.

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.

My Failed Celibate Relationship

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A reflection by Lindsey

I’ve had a lot of different opportunities to learn about my vocation to celibacy. My partnership with Sarah provides a fantastic place to discern how God is calling me to live a celibate life. Additionally, I spent time cultivating celibacy as a single person. But the first place I explored living a celibate life was in a romantic relationship.

When I was first beginning my journey of reconciling my faith and sexuality, I found myself inexplicably drawn to a person I shall call Carey. Carey was several years older than me but lived a life richly connected to Christ in a local faith community. Carey’s pastor was supportive and accepting, encouraging Carey to pursue life in Christ. Despite our age gap, we seemed to be in similar life stages and exploring closely related callings. We could talk easily, and we grew closer and closer. It wasn’t long before I found myself desiring a relationship with Carey.

But there was a problem… or so I thought. Carey was earnestly and stridently convicted that gay sex is a sin and could not be approved under any circumstances. How in the world could a relationship work out? My own views on how to reconcile one’s faith with one’s LGBT status were in flux, and I didn’t want to be trespassing on Carey’s ethical conscience. We had several conversations about the perceived tension and came to the conclusion that it was possible to pursue a relationship that didn’t involve sex. Through a series of unlikely events, I ended up flying to visit Carey a few weeks later. We hit it off with a good deal of instant chemistry.

Carey and I started a strong relationship forged on mutual respect and shared commitment to Christ. We explored different ways to share a prayer life that worked even when we were separated by many states. Our common faith tradition anchored our time spent together. Carey had a bit more experience within our tradition and taught me quite a lot about how to live a way of life aligned with particular aspects of our tradition. We tried to pray early and often, ever growing towards a more complete prayer life in our tradition.

Our discussions about celibacy involved a lot of boundary work. We thought about the counsel given to unmarried heterosexual couples and tried to implement that in our lives. We also talked a lot about what dating heterosexual couples did with each other that did not count as sex. I found myself constantly right up against the boundaries. But I wasn’t driven to the boundaries because I wanted more; I was driven to the boundaries because they defined our limits about what we were willing to share together.

However, from my perspective, our boundary work related to defining sex seemed to bubble over into boundary work in other areas. Every bit of additional boundary work seemed to pull us apart rather than bring us closer together. Night prayer became attached to going to bed, specifically to Carey’s bedtime, a boundary that didn’t work very well with us living on different schedules in different time zones. We started praying separately. Our own tradition became an exclusive marker of faithfully living a Christian life. It became very easy to devote large chunks of conversation to being critical of people in other Christian traditions. We experienced even more conflicts when we talked about politics, especially as we started reading authors referenced by politicians from the other side of the aisle. Fighting politically is never fun. Towards the very end of our relationship together, our boundary work also expanded to only being friends with other LGBT couples in which both parties earnestly believed gay sex is a sin. For my part, I struggled mightily with this idea because I couldn’t see how boundaries in our relationship manifested any differently from those of dating LGBT couples who earnestly believed in trying to save sex until marriage.

I’m not sharing the unraveling of my relationship to point fingers at Carey, or to point fingers at me. I think both Carey and I found ourselves in over our heads because we had never stopped to think about what it might look like to cultivate a celibate vocation together. We had a pretty good handle on what abstinence entailed. Yet, over a year after we broke off our relationship, I had experienced a great deal of conviction that my relationship with Carey did not serve me in cultivating a celibate vocation. We never broke our rules about physical boundaries set to make sure we remained abstinent, but I felt slightly betrayed by my body and its capacity for surprising sexual connection.

I also felt misled by my Christian tradition. Early on in our relationship, Carey found a small book that detailed some of the authoritative teaching discussing LGBT people and their relationships. The practical counsel of the book boiled down to a belief that as LGBT people grew in their capacity to love one another, they would then make the God-honoring choice to refrain from homogenital acts. In the aftermath of my failed relationship, I found myself rather angry. How could the wisdom of my Christian tradition give me but two commands? There was the lofty call to “grow in love” and then the very specific directive to “avoid homogential acts.” I felt that in my relationship with Carey, eventually we tipped the balance towards the latter rather than the former.

Since failing in my first celibate relationship, I’ve become ever more convinced of the need to define celibacy in the positive. I have tried to live my life by the axiom, “Human beings have meaningful relationships with other human beings,” trusting God to show me places of rich connection. I began visiting different vowed celibate people to learn a bit more about how they lived their lives. I learned how to take myself out on dates, exploring different ways to appreciate myself as a beloved child of God as opposed to thinking that every significant friendship would eventually blossom romantically. I’ve become a big advocate of the idea that it’s worth spending time discerning what the vocation of celibacy might look like in a particular individual’s life before encouraging that person to jump into a celibate relationship. I’ve known other people who have experienced failed celibate relationships, and it’s almost uncanny how my friends’ relationships have mirrored the relationship I shared with Carey. I do not wish a failed celibate relationship on anyone, so I speak out about the need to be mindful when cultivating a celibate vocation.

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