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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.

Isn’t sex a good thing?

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With some regularity, readers ask us if choosing celibacy means denying one’s sexuality and/or denying the existence of sexuality as a gift from God. About a month ago, one reader provided us with a great deal of information on the evolutionary aspects of sex and sexuality, following that information up with this set of questions: “I ask if [celibacy] is a denial of the gift God gives us in sex. I guess my question to you is, isn’t sex good? Isn’t it one of God’s greatest gifts to us? Aren’t we supposed to be sexual creatures?” After taking a few weeks to ponder how we would approach these questions, we have decided to address them directly today.

We’ll begin by giving the short, simple answer to the titular question of this post: yes. We do believe that sex is good. We believe it is a gift from God, and our Christian tradition influences our understanding of how God intends humans to use this gift. We also see a distinction between “sexual activity” and “sexuality,” and do not believe that absence of the first means avoidance of the second. We see celibacy as a means of living into the gift of sexuality rather than a denial of it. Our celibacy does not exclude us from existing as sexual creatures. We’ve both had enough experience in the past with attempting to deny or change our sexualities that we know how damaging suppression can be.

Concerning the idea that sex is, as our reader suggests, “one of God’s greatest gifts to us,” we would agree with that. Sexual activity enables humans to engage directly with God as co-creators, bringing new life into the world. It also enables couples to deepen their relationships with God by coming to know one another more intimately. That God has provided humans this means of connection with Him and with other humans is truly incredible. As such, we believe it would be foolish to deny that the capacity for sexual activity is one of God’s greatest gifts to humanity. That said, the decision to follow a vocational pathway that does not include sexual activity can provide means of engaging in other amazing gifts from God. One example of this is that celibacy offers the opportunity for connection to the world more generally, unlocking space for cultivating the gifts of intercession and mercy. When we are trying to relate to people who are not “family” connections, we find ourselves stretching to practice compassion. Directing compassion through Christ means prayerfully imaging him to the people we meet. We don’t always succeed in this, but working on it is one of the great challenges and joys of the celibate vocation. People who are married often feel called to take a more family-oriented approach to honing the gifts of intercession and mercy. Similarly, we feel called to engaging with God’s gift of sexuality in ways that do not involve sexual activity.

Another illustration that came to mind as we were discussing these questions is the various senses with which God has gifted humans. Generally, people are able to engage with the world using some combination of sight, hearing, touch, taste, smell, emotion, and so on. Not all humans are able to use all of these gifts, and we don’t have much choice concerning which of these we are and aren’t able to use. Even people who have the ability to communicate using all of the traditionally-named “five senses” tend to gravitate toward some more than others for communicating and making sense of the world. For example, Sarah has color-grapheme synesthesia—an involuntary phenomenon that causes her to see letters, numbers, and certain words in specific colors (i.e. “7” is green, “purpose” is red). Because of this, Sarah uses colors to understand most concepts when reading, writing, doing mathematics, translating from one written language to another, etc. However, this also complicates matters for Sarah’s engagement with the same concepts presented in oral format, so Sarah tends to rely more strongly on sight than any of the other senses. But engagement with one gift does not imply denial that others are good, or that others exist. Sarah’s understanding of things would differ significantly from that of a person who, for whatever reason, relies more consistently on the gift of touch to make sense of the world, but that doesn’t mean either has to deny the other’s experience.

The last question, “Aren’t we supposed to be sexual creatures?” is an important one. We want to be clear that we do see ourselves as sexual creatures even though we have chosen a way of life that does not involve sexual activity. We accept that both of us are attracted exclusively to women. Lindsey has been a strident advocate for celibates taking the approach of integrating rather than excising their sexualities. When one integrates one’s sexuality within the vocation of celibacy, one acknowledges that attraction is a gift from God and appreciates diverse kinds of beauty. Integrating one’s sexuality enables one to live within one’s body, becoming comfortable in one’s own skin. We have learned to celebrate our full humanity. We marvel at how being in relationship with each other has challenged us as individuals to grow in appreciation of our individual bodies while making space for another person to do the same.

We’ve come to believe that yes, sex is a good thing while considering sexuality as a whole to be even more profoundly meaningful. As celibates, we see sexuality as a gift given to people by God, so we can connect with their bodies. People’s sexualities affect how they experience the world. We appreciate many diverse aspects of people’s sexualities and do not seek to deny other people their own experiences.

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.

Terms of Engagement

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A reflection by Sarah

On January 8, 2014, one evening before the opening session of the Gay Christian Network Conference, Lindsey and I visited a small, independent bookstore in Chicago. We had spent the entire day driving to the Midwest from our city, since 3 AM in fact, and were exhausted. I was still shaken from a car accident we had experienced just hours earlier, and after meeting up with our friend Alison at the last minute for dinner at a nearby Mediterranean restaurant I was ready to turn in for the evening. Still, Lindsey insisted that we take some time to stroll around the bookstore and see what hidden gems we might find. We split off into different sections for a while. Later, Lindsey met me in the adventure books where I was perusing a copy of Jules Verne’s 20,000 Leagues under the Sea. We began talking about all the amusing situations we’ve found ourselves in since we first met, and I noticed a positive shift in my mood. Ultimately, we ended up in a conversation about how our life together is turning out to be the craziest adventure upon which either of us has ever embarked.

That discussion was one I’m sure I’ll never forget. It was the evening when, after months of discernment, Lindsey and I affirmed to each other that we feel called to continue living our celibate vocations together for the rest of our lives. We came to a decision that after spending the next year to reflect further, we will pursue some form of legal protection and find the most appropriate way to honor and celebrate our family. A couple pursuing marriage (however one defines that term) might consider such discussions characteristic of “engagement.” But we aren’t preparing to enter a marriage, so most people we know are baffled by our discussions of commitment and share life.

As I’ve reflected before, Lindsey and I have always struggled to find the best words to describe our relationship and our way of life. The English language and societal expectations don’t make it an easy task: there isn’t exactly a concise term for “couple committed to living a celibate vocation together that isn’t a marriage, but still allows for financial security, the ability to make health care decisions for each other, etc., etc., etc.” There’s no option for “preparing to live fully into a lifelong celibate partnership” on Facebook’s “relationship” dropdown menu. Even more significant a complicating factor is that our Christian tradition offers us little language beyond “celibacy” for describing our vocation and no guidance at all for developing a meaningful way of life in our specific circumstance.

Another layer of difficulty in determining what language to employ is that people in our lives don’t always understand why we believe it important to use certain descriptors and not others. At one extreme, we have acquaintances who urge us not even to identify as being in a relationship with each other. They encourage us to describe ourselves as “best friends” and “roommates.” In most cases, these same people become uncomfortable when we use the phrase “lifelong commitment” in relation to each other, but experience no discomfort with the idea that monastics enter lifelong commitments to each other in their communities. On the other hand, we know people who have trouble recognizing why, as an LGBT couple doing life together in a committed relationship, we wouldn’t want that referred to as a marriage. Many of these folks urge us to discuss our relationship in spousal terms, and some have indicated that our disinterest in doing so sets us in opposition to the movement for marriage equality. With minimal availability of comfortable terminology and an abundant presence of people ready to tell us how we ought to define ourselves, the quest for the best words can leave a person (or a couple) feeling very isolated. Yet despite these experiences, we are heartened by the number of people who, in diverse ways, have been unapologetically supportive of us in our vocation. We have many friends who offer us encouragement daily and show interest in helping us engage with the tough questions, regardless of what conclusions we reach and how those may or may not match with their own conclusions.

As of now, we find that the terms “family” and “team” roll most naturally off the tongue when describing ourselves to others. “Partners” also seems to fit well because this word implies shared work and a shared journey. Despite the fact that many equate the word “partnership” with “sexually active relationship,” we feel drawn to the basic meaning of this term, as we do understand our vocation to be shared responsibility for serving others and serving Christ.

It’s regrettable that people in various types of relationships aren’t always free to define those relationships such that all involved parties feel comfortable with the language used. Language around relationships is highly politicized. How one identifies one’s relationship can raise all kinds of associations for other people. In America, both religions and the government define marriage. In the eyes of a public audience, one’s willingness or unwillingness to define a particular relationship as a marriage often carries ideological connotations, regardless of whether one actually identifies with said ideologies. If any freedom to define one’s relationship and not be pigeonholed into a political category ever did exist, it seems that freedom is now gone. The terms of engagement for discussing our own life situation do not belong to us, and that will never change unless we make an active decision to take them back. With this post, consider it done. Lindsey and I are a team, a family, and a partnership, even if those words don’t have the same meanings for you as they do for us.

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.

Actively Cultivating a Celibate Vocation

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A reflection by Lindsey

We’ve made a general practice of not giving advice on this blog. We are keepers of our own story, and we are not interested in telling another person what his or her story should be. Nonetheless, I was struck a few weeks ago when Eve Tushnet said that there was a place in these discussions for people to cry, “This is the path! Follow me!” lest we become an echo chamber. We’ve also had multiple people sending us emails asking us for more guidance on actively trying to cultivate a celibate vocation. I’ve spent nearly a decade trying to sort these questions for myself, have journeyed alongside tens of other people trying to cultivate celibate vocations themselves, and think that I can highlight some practical elements of actively cultivating a celibate vocation. So, in this reflection, I’m going to make a brief trip to how-to land.

Some disclaimers: I’m going to talk about cultivating a celibate vocation in generalities rather than zooming in on the experience of cultivating a celibate partnership. I’ve shared before about my experiences with a failed celibate relationship, and I know other people who have been profoundly hurt by starting their explorations of celibacy in the context of an intimate relationship. While I have spent a lot of time myself trying to cultivate a celibate vocation, I don’t regard myself as an authority at any level.

Get to know people who live a celibate vocation
Finding active models of a celibate life worth living is hard. I spent time hanging out at monasteries and reading memoirs of people who remained single throughout their entire life. One of the most helpful books for me is My Song is Of Mercy by Fr. Matthew Kelty because Fr. Matthew is living out a celibate vocation as a gay man. Fr. Matthew’s sermons include occasional examples from the gay community that show he integrated his sexuality into his life. But getting to know monastics from different communities showed me that there is a lot of variety within the celibate vocation. It’s okay if not every celibate person inspires you with a vision for what your vocation can look like. In many ways, it’s probably better for you if there’s a subset of celibate people you love and admire. I tended to look towards people in religious communities, but many people from different walks of life have lived a celibate vocation. Find a few models that resonate with you and provide a glimpse into the kind of life you’d like to cultivate.

Spend real time with married people
One thing I’ve noticed is that many LGBT people who feel compelled to explore a celibate vocation because of their faith convictions are prone to crafting a utopian vision of marriage. Marriage can become a wished-for, yet completely unattainable, happy place where people are never lonely, social get-togethers are awesome, and God totally pours out blessing after blessing. Yet, spending time with married people I admire showed me that married people and celibate people face many of the same struggles when it comes to finding our places in this world. Additionally, I learned that married people who make the practice of opening their homes to others have this odd gift of making me feel like a part of the family in a very short time. I’ve had the privilege of reading bedtime stories to kids and I’ve experienced why families with kids might try to hightail it out of social engagements before the kids have a meltdown. When you meet real married people, marriage doesn’t look so utopian after all.

Regard the things in which you find great delight as sacred
It can be hard as a celibate person to communicate why a certain action “counts” as intimate and meaningful. Our culture, and even the culture within our churches, has primed us to view sex as the only expression of intimacy worth saving for special people. Yet, each and every one of us has things that we especially enjoy doing, and we want to save particular experiences for sharing with special people. It doesn’t matter if your special things are going to a concert, sharing a meal together, playing board games, going geocaching, geeking out over Latin word roots, or any number of other things. Your special things are still special, they make you the unique human you are, and they are worth sharing with special people in your life. Treasure the unique parts of yourself as sacred. Treat them with care. As you grow closer to particular people, allow them to see more of you. I found that treating my love of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies, my excitability when going to concerts, and my tendency to relish in a good hug with sacred appreciation enabled me to experience significantly more intimacy across a wide range of relationships.

Find a rhythm in your own life that includes prayer and positive self-care
In trying to discern my celibate vocation, I worked with the examples I found in monasteries. Life in a monastery is centered upon communal and individual prayer. When I talked with monastics, they told me they entered the monastery because they felt a vocation to prayer. Yet, a lot of life in the monastery also involved caring for the community. Monastics prepare common meals, take one another to seek medical care when needed, go shopping, and work together to support the monastery. As I got to know monastics, I realized that monastic lives are indeed very human lives. An abbess once shared with me that if I wanted to explore the possibility that I was called to monasticism, I would be served by trying to put monastic life into practice as much as possible in my daily life. I’ve experimented with incorporating different regular devotions into my day and preparing proper meals. These disciplines have shown me that I have in-built settings that need to be acknowledged if I’m going to take care of myself.

Share life meaningfully with others wherever possible
When I started actively trying to cultivate a celibate vocation, I did not have a clue how to share life meaningfully with other people. I had to overcome significant cultural programming that the only “real” meaningful relationship would blossom into a marriage. Since I had to start somewhere, I started by asking God to show me the meaningful relationships present in my life. God showed me that I did have profoundly meaningful relationships already present in my life and that I had the potential to develop meaningful relationships with people I was only just getting to know. In shifting my focus away from cultivating one marital relationship, I was able to see myself in a network of other relationships. As a direct consequence of living this way, I have numerous friends–married and celibate–for whom the word “friend’ fails communicate the depth of intimacy we experience in those relationships.

Practice serving others regularly
Getting out and doing something to help people is a great way to see past the end of your own nose. I also found that being positioned to see others’ needs helped me consider how I could be a blessing to them and how they could bless me. As I began to cultivate a celibate vocation, I drove a one-day shift with Meals on Wheels in a low-income area of my town. Visiting briefly with the clients on my route allowed me to make those tentative spaces of connection. Seeing them week after week, I practiced making friends who were in a very different state of life than I was. It wasn’t a huge obligation, but I found myself missing the regular interaction when I moved abroad for a season. I’ve learned that I’m happiest when I’m giving to others in a consistent way. As time has gone on, I’ve shifted where I’ve invested my energies. Please know that serving others is a balance. Too much serving can lead to frustration that you’re always pouring yourself out and not receiving anything in return. I’ve come to ask myself, “Do I find this act of service meaningful and life-giving or am I doing it out of a fundamental sense of obligation?” The question has helped me find meaningful and life-giving ways to serve others. For folks looking for a number, I’ve found that I do best with 1 regular weekly commitment. I can usually find at least 2 hours in my week to serve others in an intentional way.

As this post was a brief venture into how-to land, I’m sure that your mileage will vary if you were to put these ideas into practice. This list reflects how I actively cultivated a celibate vocation. I’d love to hear from other people who have chosen to cultivate a celibate vocation about what they’re doing.

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