Tag Archives: intimacy

On Being Different

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A reflection by Lindsey

This week, I’ve found myself reflecting a lot on my experiences growing up. As a kid, I was different. It was rare for me to find places where I perceived that I fit. No matter what the metric, there were ways I frequently experienced a strong sense of otherness. I constantly looked for opportunities where I was like the other people gathered, and by the time I hit fifth grade, I realized that these opportunities required that I travel outside of my typical geography.

You see, early on, I realized that I was smart. I was that nerdy kid, incredibly enthusiastic about seemingly random things. When I discovered science camps at my local university, I was in my element. Finally there was a place where it was okay to be that geek.

Consistently being different is hard, especially when we live in a world that values conformity. I think nearly every adult can identify acute places in his or his childhood where, no matter what, feelings of difference were a constant companion. Feeling different can be excruciating. I remember some of the questions that used to run through my head when I was younger: Why must I salivate over logic problems instead of waiting with baited breath for this week’s basketball games? Why would I rather bury my nose in a book than chat it up with the “cool” kids? Why is it that I can’t wait to get home to do my science experiment instead of play video games? And yes, I would have used the word “salivate” to describe my relationship with mathematics.

Regularly, I use concepts of otherness when discussing my personal comfort with using LGBTQ alphabet soup to describe myself. To me, LGBTQ simply indicates that I experience the world differently than cisgender, heterosexual people. To make sense of cisgender, heterosexual people, I try listening to them describing their experiences. However, the more I learn about said experiences, the more convinced I am that mine are different. I’ve accepted that there is an overwhelming majority of straight, cisgender people around me. But, just as science camps afforded me a place to relax and be myself, spend time around LGBTQ Christians gives me yet another space to experience a deep sense of belonging.

With some frequency, I find myself wishing that more conservative Christians could appreciate my desire for room to relax and just be me. When I was a kid, I learned that virtually every school had smart kids. The way to get a bunch of smart kids together was to create opportunities that acknowledged how our smartness could be used to create community. Similarly, I believe that it’s absolutely true that virtually every church has LGBTQ Christians. It’s worth creating space for LGBTQ Christians to gather, to have an opportunity to feel less different and more at home.

I remember the huge sense of relief when I walked into my first Gay Christian Network conference in 2008. All of a sudden, I was with 200 other people who were like me! However, I almost couldn’t work up the nerve to go. I had heard so many conservative Christians completely bashing any and all LGBT organizations. If these organizations claimed to be Christian, then they were certainly distorting the truth of the Gospel and merely parroting what itching ears wanted to hear. I didn’t feel like I had any space whatsoever to affirm an event like the GCN conference as a good thing. I have since attended five GCN conferences because GCN is one of the few LGBT Christian organizations that has any space to walk alongside me as I journey alongside Christ. To be sure, it’s only one space, but it is certainly a space where I feel an absolute sense of being at home.

In many ways, I felt that same sense of home when I first went to science camp. As I have grown older, I have heard many arguments about why schools should stop providing programs to gifted students. While I’m confident places like science camp will continue to exist, I hope every student has somewhere at school where he or she feels a sense of being accepted. Why are we so quick to tell people who find themselves in a minority demographic that nothing can be done in their backyards to help them feel more at home?

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.

Erotic Eucharist: Nurturing Deep Attraction Between Friends

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Today’s post is a guest reflection by Dan Brennan, author of Sacred Unions, Sacred Passions: Engaging the Mystery of Friendship Between Men and Women. We believe it is just as important to give voice to heterosexual experiences of deep, meaningful, relationships outside of marriage as it is to create space for the stories of non-marriage relationships among celibate LGBT Christians. Dan, who has been married to his wife Sheila for several years, has also grown spiritually from a close relationship with his friend Jennifer. We are fascinated by Dan’s work in the area of sacred friendships and are honored to share a sample of his writing with you today. As always when reading guest posts, please keep in mind that everyone’s story is different, and the experiences, perspectives, thoughts, and theological ideas presented by the author will not necessarily match completely with ours. If you are a celibate LGBT Christian or ally, or if you have a story to share that is related to the themes we discuss at A Queer Calling, feel free to Contact Us.

A reflection by Dan Brennan

She sat to my left. Sheila, my beautiful wife, sat to my right. We were about ready to celebrate the Eucharist which we did weekly in our Anglican church. My attraction toward my female friend who regularly sat next to my left was deepening. Before I had any theories about “erotic” Eucharist, before I knew any language to describe “erotic” Eucharist, I was thoroughly processing my attraction.

Looking back on this season in my life nine years later, I can definitely rejoice in the spiritual eros I experienced in participating in the Eucharist at the time. Ever since I became an Anglican several years earlier, I longed to meet Christ every week in the Eucharist. Liturgy was no-run-of-the-mill religious ritual where I went through the motions. The Eucharist was where I celebrated the Feast. Each week I lifted my heart before the Lord’s presence. Christ was my sweet desire in Eucharistic intimacy. The real presence of Christ was my sweet delight. Each Sunday, I yearned for the deep beauty, goodness, and delight of Christ’s presence in drinking “the cup of salvation” and eating “the bread of life.”

So perhaps in hindsight, it was no coincidence I became open to explore the connection between the divine eros in the Eucharist and my deepening attraction toward my female friend.

Before I proceed, I’m honored that Lindsey and Sarah have invited me to write a post on their blog. Ever since I came across their blog a couple of months ago I’ve admired their particular calling and how are they are engaging subjects like chastity, sexuality, friendship, and the LGBT community. I’m writing from a straight white male perspective aware of my privilege. My journey has led me to a deep curiosity of how sexuality and friendship can flourish in close friendships and community. I admire Lindsey and Sarah’s call to celibacy.

Taste and See that the Lord is Good

Opening my desires, my attraction, my longings, and my anxieties while I ate the bread, drank the wine, and fed on Christ’s love and presence was a powerful discipline for me during this season. I had intuitive trust in seeking Christ through Eucharistic intimacy. I had come to know Christ, I had come to receive Christ, and I had come to trust Christ through this intimate connection. Opening my attraction for my female friend to Christ was a natural thing for me to do.

Each week I surrendered my friendship, my attraction, my desire for deeper connection before the Lord as I drank the cup of salvation and ate the bread. Wisdom is better than jewels and all that I desired could not compare with my knowing the sweet and sheer delight of Christ’s real presence in the Eucharist (Proverbs 8:10-12; 30).

What is deep attraction? I desired ongoing intimacy with my friend at multiple levels: spiritual, emotional, physical, and intellectual. Did I have a sexual attraction for her? Or was it a nonsexual longing to deeply connect with her that included physical affection? It’s hard to sort that out when you are opening yourself up to deep attraction. I was not physically attracted to her when we first met. But as our friendship grew she became deeply beautiful in my eyes. But I was fiercely committed to my wife and I was also committed to seeing my friend as more than an object to be pursued for sexual gratification. So what I mean by deep attraction is the desire to connect with the whole person in friendship with passionate commitment to not make a move toward sex.

I was seeking the delight and presence of Christ in the Eucharist among other things. Years later, I would read something Amy Frykhom suggested: “True, deep, real pleasure is an avenue to the Holy” (See Me Naked). That was my intuitive posture as I sought Christ in the weekly Eucharist. I was not seeking self-indulgence. I was seeking the beauty of the Christ I knew in the Eucharist.

My attraction to my friend was utterly paradigm-shifting for me and opened up a whole new world as I sought to bring the wholeness of who she was before Christ in weekly Eucharist. It was conventional wisdom for evangelical men to run away from any kind of deep attraction toward women in which both parties had no romantic potential. I was seeking Christ as my wisdom as I explored this deep attraction; not a conservative list of dos and don’ts.

Too Good To Be True

Nine years later I can say I’m so grateful for the Eucharist and the gift of deep attraction. I have no regrets about continuing to talk about delight, pleasure, and mutual cherishing with a trajectory toward deep attraction in friendship. One of my differences with Christians who are my critics is right here: they think I am promoting something too good to be true for our present culture and world. Some think I’m a “daredevil.” Some think I’m suggesting a practice akin to “emotional dating.”

For many years, my conservative evangelical sexuality prohibited me from experiencing “too good to be true” moments outside of my marriage. In the past 10 years I have intentionally chosen to be open to attraction in friendships—including deep attraction with my other sex friends—with the Eucharist at the heart of integrating my sexuality and my friendships.

As Christians living in a post-Freudian culture, we are going to have to address the question: are we are going to view the Eucharist through a cultural Freudianism or are we going to view the cultural Freudianism through the Eucharist? Viewed through popular Freudianism, sex in a materialistic world is the ultimate, too good to be true story. Viewed through the Eucharist, the ultimate too good to be true story is union/intimacy with God and with one another.

At the center of the Christian faith is the Eucharist which invites us all—straight, gay, lesbian, bi-sexual, transgender, queer—to this “too good to be true” intimacy where we eat and drink and take in Christ, we digest his body. Eucharistic intimacy summons us to the life and love of Christ, of shared intimacy in the present world but also into a future world. In the midst of chaos and dysfunction, it is hard to believe—‘too good to be true”— deep attraction toward healing, human flourishing, shalom, and deep delight. The Eucharist offers us a narrative where friends know the powerful delight of Christ’s love in this world.

I’ve now lost track of the many “too good to be true” moments in my various female friendships and in my marriage. What a deep joy to experience too good to be true moments with Sheila as a result of/in the midst of our other friendships. If we have good marriages, families, friendships, we all experience moments of that kind. But I am deliberately including those moments birthed of deep pleasure and love which involved my other sex friendships.

I have no doubt, that Sarah and Lindsey have experienced some of those “too good to be true” moments in their own friendship. The cultural Freudian narrative would believe Sarah and Lindsey could not experience such depth in their relationship sans sex. However, if you view their friendship through the lens of an Eucharistic intimacy, there is no ceiling on spiritual beauty in their relationship.

I continue to nurture a deep attraction toward my wife and to this day, I find her more beautiful than ever. I also continue to nurture a deep attraction toward my female friend. We have been close friends for twelve years. I had made several decisions back while I was “staying with” my attraction in a contemplative posture in my practice of the Eucharist. I took responsibility for my own actions and refused to ever act on any sexual feelings or any erotic energy I was experiencing in my friendship. I refused to fantasize. I also stayed clear of any pornographic material. I continued to nurture my attraction and love toward Sheila.

It just so happened somewhere about nine years ago that as I was experiencing the sweet and delightful love of Christ in the Eucharist and my growing delight and attraction toward my female friend, I encountered the gift of sexuality and friendship. Instead of running away from it, ignoring it, or seeking sex, I chose to nurture something deeper: a social desire for an alternative intimacy in friendship which did not neuter my sexuality. This didn’t happen overnight. But I continued to seek Christ, engage in conversation with trusted others, and eagerly search for wisdom on a wide range of issues pertaining to sexuality and friendship.

I now have a wide range of friendships. I view nurturing a deep attraction with my other sex friends as an intentional practice for being authentic in my sexuality and being authentic as a trusted and safe friend. “True desire,” writes Philip Sheldrake in his rich book, Befriending Our Desires, “is non-possessive. It is an openness to the future, to possibility, to ‘the other’ whether human other or God.” Nurturing a deep attraction is to choose the path of Eucharistic intimacy: to learn to receive, to learn to be open, to learn attentiveness to real presence, to forgive and seek forgiveness, to let go, and to attend to delight and beauty in our deepest relationships. It is too good to be true. But this is the trajectory of the Christian faith. To find the greatest treasure in the world—Christ in our relationships.

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.

10 Misconceptions about Celibate Partnerships

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Even as we thought about naming our blog before we began writing, we knew there would always be people who misunderstand our way of life. There are many misconceptions about celibacy in general, and it’s understandable that there are even more about celibate partnerships like ours. Seeing as we already spent some time clarifying the nature of our relationship last week, we thought that it might be a good time to expound upon some misconceptions we’ve encountered about celibate partnerships since beginning our writing project together.

1. We entered into celibate partnerships because we are lonely. Without a doubt, this is the most common of all misconceptions we hear. Whether it’s the suggestion that we are to be pitied because “it must be so difficult to get through life alone” or oppositely, the assertion that we need to suck it up and realize that being lonely is just our “cross to bear” as LGBT people, we hear some form of this on a regular basis. We can’t speak for others who have decided to pursue celibate partnerships, but our decision to do life together was in no way related to fear of or difficulty coping with loneliness and isolation. To understand more of what we mean, read the post we wrote on that topic.

2. We are trying to imitate marriage. Some of our acquaintances have asserted that the only way to understand words like “couple” and “partnership” is within the context of a pathway to marriage. Because we have shared that we are not interested in a sacramental marriage and would not be eligible for one within our faith tradition even if we did want that, we’ve heard it said that we must be imitating marriage. Frequently, we have noted parallels between the marital vocation and various celibate vocations, stating that certain aspects like intimacy and vulnerability are present within all types of vocations. Seeing parallels between our kind of vocation and another kind does not mean that we are attempting to imitate the other. Within the past week especially, we’ve discussed this further with our friends who are also in celibate partnerships, and no one we’ve ever talked to about this has seen his/her celibate partnership as an imitation of marriage.

3. We endanger our partners’ personal commitments to celibacy. Again, we can’t speak for other people here, but as for the two of us, we find that doing life together strengthens both our personal commitments to celibacy. Though we often hear folks wondering why we don’t see the life we share as a near occasion of sin, the possibility that   we might encourage each other to abandon celibacy seems totally unrealistic to us. We learn a great deal from each other, and we see each other growing in virtue as a result of living together and sharing in various aspects of life.

4. Our relationships are sexually abstinent, but not truly celibate because there must be some element of eroticism. Some folks have the idea that because we consider ourselves “partners,” we must be struggling against lust for one another. From there comes the assumption that celibate partnerships may be sexually abstinent, but not celibate in the most honest sense of the word. Speaking from personal experience, our relationship has never been based upon physical attraction, arousal, or desire. Near the beginning of our relationship, we had many conversations about what does draw us toward each other since neither of us remotely fits the physical type to whom the other is attracted. We saw easily that our common ties were commitment to doing life with another person who also feels called to celibacy, similar intellectual interests and capabilities, and willingness to help each other grow in holiness. Eroticism has never been part of the picture for us.

5. Only women enter into celibate partnerships. Sometimes we hear it posited that only women–and more specifically, only women with low sex drives–would be able to maintain celibate partnerships. We do know several other celibate LGBT couples, and believe it or not, none of them are female. All other celibate LGBT couples whom we have the pleasure of knowing at this time are men, and some have been together far longer than we have.

6. We choose “liberal, unorthodox” spiritual directors who will tell us only what we want to hear about our relationships. This misconception is one of the most frustrating because it implies that 1) no theologically orthodox spiritual father would ever support our manner of living for any reason, and 2) individual spiritual fathers cannot be trusted to guide those who seek their counsel. The two of us see receiving strong, theologically orthodox spiritual direction as absolutely necessary. We would not feel comfortable seeing a priest for confession and spiritual direction if he were advocating that we do whatever we want or see ourselves as exceptions to the expectations of our Christian tradition. Our respective spiritual fathers are fully aware of our relationship to one another, and both have offered us great encouragement. They are also committed firmly to upholding traditional Christian teachings, and we’ve never had any reason to doubt their orthodoxy.

7. Our relationships are defined by exclusivity. An objection to celibate partnerships that we’ve heard more recently is that it’s inappropriate for two unmarried people to have an exclusive relationship with one another. We’re going to say something controversial here: we don’t think any healthy relationship, celibate or otherwise, is entirely exclusive. Certainly, marriages within Christianity would view sex as one specific area of exclusivity, but even our married friends (at least those who see their marriages as thriving) don’t view their spouses as their everything. It’s impossible for one person to meet all emotional and spiritual needs for another. That goes for us just as much as for people living other vocations. We don’t see our relationship as exclusive. In fact, we’re confident that it wouldn’t work if we didn’t also have other important people in our lives whom we consider our family of choice.

8. Doing life together is nothing more than a matter of convenience. This misconception comes in two variants: 1) the idea that we chose to share life because it’s convenient, and 2) the belief that if we don’t view our shared life in this way, we should. To address the first variant, we’ve stated in numerous places that our doing life together was an organic development. But that doesn’t mean there was no intentionality behind it. Though we do know some celibate LGBT couples who have begun sharing life merely for the sake of convenience, we view our own relationship as focused first and foremost on helping each other to grow closer to God. To address the second variant…well…we’re actually confused by this one. Why would it be better to live together for the sake of convenience than to live together because we feel called to helping each other journey toward Christ? Is this intention suitable only for married couples and monastics? Were someone to answer “yes,” we would heartily disagree.

9. We are actively seeking to redefine traditional Christian teachings. We’ve written in other places on the blog about just how hurtful this assumption is. Based on our own experience and those of other celibate LGBT couples we know, nothing could be farther from the truth. Every celibate LGBT couple with whom we are personally acquainted has expressed a strong desire to live fully in accordance with traditional Christian teachings on marriage and sexuality, and this is true even for couples we know whose decision to pursue celibacy is not rooted in a belief about sin.

10. We don’t see each other as friends. We find it troubling how often people attempt to place all relationships within a “marriage” and “friendship” binary. In the near future we hope to do a full post on this topic, but we find it rather insensitive and condescending when people tell us, “There’s already a name for what your relationship is, and that’s ‘friendship.'” That said, there seem to be just as many people who want to tell us that we see our relationship as a marriage (or imitation) because we clearly don’t view ourselves as friends. This isn’t true. As we’ve said over and over again, finding the most fitting terms for describing our relationship is a struggle for us, and probably will be for a long while if not for the rest of our earthly lives. But other terms we may use–partners, couple, family, team–do not negate the fact that we are also friends.

Are there other misconceptions about celibate partnership that we did not discuss in this post? Is there something you are interested in knowing more about relative to myths and realities about celibate partnership? Feel free to leave those and any other relevant discussion items in the comments section.

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.

Showing Love in the Midst of Difference

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A few weeks ago, we published two posts on ways people could be more supportive of celibate LGBT Christians. Our target audience for these posts was straight Christians with both traditional and progressive views on sexual ethics. Not long after publishing these, we heard from several non-celibate LGBT Christian readers who wanted to know if there are any ways they could be more supportive of celibate singles and couples within the LGBT community. In response to these inquiries, we wanted to share some positive examples of how non-celibate LGBT Christian friends have shown us encouragement, kindness, and compassion.

As we reflected together before drafting this post, we concluded quickly that we have lots of awesome friends. We decided to keep our comments as generalized categories instead of stating names because we hope that many of our friends will see themselves in multiple categories. We’re so very grateful to all of the people who have shown us love, even across various theological differences.

With Lindsey being between jobs right now, we’re deeply appreciative of how our friends have stepped up to the plate to offer help when we’ve needed it. Our friends have been there with love, prayers, and significant financial support. We have been amazed at how this generosity has crossed all borders that divide Christians. Several friends even approached us with gifts before learning about our exact needs. To say we were blown away is an understatement. We remain profoundly grateful and look forward to the day of being able to pay their generosity forward. These folks can testify to the fact that you don’t have to be living the same kind of life as another person, or even understand his or her way of life, in order to extend to Christian charity.

We’ve also been humbled by friends who have shown us an earnest belief that every person matters, has value, and is worth getting to know. These folks will ask us questions about our way of life, knowing that our answers do not come from a place trying to convince them that they must adopt our way of life for themselves. They are legitimately curious when asking us about what we did the previous weekend, which books we’re reading, how God is challenging us to grow spiritually, and other such questions. Many of these friends neither understand nor agree with our approach to sexuality-related issues. Nevertheless, they exemplify that having the same theology and the same way of life is not a prerequisite for meaningful friendships. Their relationships with us showcase that it is in fact possible to experience authentic intimacy and care for another person without focusing on who’s “right” and who’s “wrong.”

We have also been so grateful for friends who have thrown themselves selflessly into supporting us through some really hard stuff. As our regular readers can attest, the last several months have been trying and stressful for us. It’s been great to have friends we can turn to whenever we need a listening ear regardless of what’s going on. If we’re experiencing a major problem in our lives or in our relationship, these friends are our “go-tos” when we need a sounding board. It’s also fantastically mutual in that they will call us whenever similar shit is hitting the fan for them. We’re able to take the time to listen, pray, be present for, and find solutions together when necessary. This arrangement works almost flawlessly because we know that these friends view us in identically the same way as they view all of their other close friends rather than conceiving of us as “that weird celibate couple.”

Another trend we’ve noticed in our close non-celibate LGBT friends is that they are fiercely protective of us. Mother bears have nothing on some of these folks. It’s comforting to know that we have friends we can turn to when we want to feel outraged about something that has happened. We have friends who don’t need to have all of the details before offering to readjust some heads, eyes, ears, or other body parts. When Sarah’s tires got slashed several months ago, it brought a smile to our faces that we had friends offering (in jest) to fly into our metro area to seek some vigilante justice. Though we’d never want someone to incite violence on our behalf, we are glad to have friends who will defend us if we’ve been wronged, support our choices as we deal with the aftermath of being wronged, and move into our emotional space with us when we just need to be majorly irked for a few minutes (or hours or days, as the case may be). Even though they certainly would not choose celibacy for themselves, we know they’d go down swinging to defend us as a celibate couple.

We’re amazed at how many specific individuals came to mind as we wrote this post. We lost count at 28. All of these people are LGBT Christians. Some are partnered, some are dating, and some are hoping to find that special someone. They come from virtually every Christian tradition under the sun. Some are out in very public ways, and others are not. Some have decided to transition their genders socially, medically, legally, or any combination therein. They are scattered across multiple countries. Some are incredibly active in church, some rarely attend religious services of any kind, and others are everywhere in between. We are incredibly blessed to share our life with so many people who can see beyond right and wrong as they look into the heart of Christ.

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.

Cultivating Emotional Intimacy

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When someone you know is going through a hard time, it’s natural to ask that person whether he or she has adequate support. As our regular readers know, the last several months have thrown many challenges our way. We are continuing to stand firm because we’re able to support one another. Many people have asked us what our intimacy looks like, and today we’d like to address a question we’ve received: “How do you cultivate emotional intimacy in a celibate relationship?” In most ways, our response is no different from what we would expect to hear from a healthy, non-celibate couple.

Upon coming into relationship with one another, we fell almost immediately into a natural pattern of cultivating deep emotional intimacy, and we’ve seen that continuing as our relationship has grown. There’s something about our personalities that has allowed each of us to “get” the other, even though we’ve both experienced being profoundly misunderstood by many people in our lives. Sometimes, two people can just click.

Our friendship blossomed because we were willing to be vulnerable with each other. As we’ve shared before, we believe that vulnerability opens the door to intimacy. When we were just beginning getting to know each other, we shared random facts about ourselves and our lives. Lindsey learned that Sarah used to wear mismatched socks to express Sarah’s individuality in elementary school. Sarah learned that as a kid, Lindsey worked to save money so Lindsey could attend Space Camp three times. These micro-stories gave us opportunities to share an incredible number of life experiences and the various emotions associated with these experiences. We each saw bits and pieces of the other’s personality, and came to appreciate some similarities while acknowledging some real differences in our pasts. Our selections were truly random, spanning from the deeply significant to the absolutely trivial. In addition to helping us get to know one another as people, sharing these stories laid a foundation for our coming to trust one another.

Early on in our friendship, we made a commitment to being completely honest with one another. Honesty is one of the highest values for both of us, and we’ve both experienced past relationships in which we or our significant others have had difficulty with being forthright. Because of this, we’ve challenged each other to be radically open about our thoughts, feelings, and mistakes when there’s a problem. Within the first month of our friendship, we had already started to see this pattern emerging between us. Though at first Lindsey considered the topic embarrassing, Lindsey shared openly with Sarah about Lindsey’s writing anxiety and the kind of support needed in order to manage it. Since we’re both writing doctoral dissertations, that type of information has been vital to ensure that we’re accomplishing our goals without sacrificing our emotional needs. Since the time Lindsey first opened up to Sarah about writing anxiety, Sarah has been able to check in with Lindsey about it and provide comfort and encouragement when Lindsey needs it most. Equally humiliating was the first time Sarah told Lindsey about Sarah’s eating disorder history. Because many people assume that these conditions are merely attention-seeking devices for wealthy, white, teenage girls and not legitimate medical conditions that could affect someone Sarah’s age, it has been a struggle for Sarah to be authentic about the need for support. But when Sarah did open up to Lindsey about this for the first time, Lindsey was unimaginably supportive and impressed by Sarah’s commitment to living a recovery-focused lifestyle even during the hard times. Examples like these have built upon our foundation for trust in one another.

Over the first few months that we knew each other, we learned a great deal of information, including the most painful and hidden parts of one another’s lives. A crucial piece of our emotional intimacy has been accepting each other’s emotional pasts for what they are and being able to appreciate that, by virtue of our humanity, we both carry deeply-rooted wounds. Whether it’s related to an issue that occurred during one of our childhoods, ways we’ve experienced hurt within the Church, Sarah’s trauma and the resulting PTSD, negative messages Lindsey received in ex-gay ministry, or something else entirely, we know that there will be space for conversation and respect for that experience’s symbolic meaning when we’re ready to talk about it together. Cultivating empathy for each other’s brokenness–that which we share in common and that which varies individually–has helped both of us to feel safe in being completely genuine with one another, regardless of how ugly that might look sometimes.

While emotional lives are built over the entire lifespan, all people experience their emotions moment by moment. We tend to regard in-the-moment emotional experiences as slightly unpredictable because emotions can vary, especially when people are under a good deal of stress. We have made a practice of affirming one another’s right to feel in the moment, even if the other doesn’t understand exactly why that particular mix of emotion is present at a given time. Our commitment to opting in 100% as we do life together has helped us develop a strong emotional intuition. When Lindsey experiences a panic attack, Sarah can usually tell whether Lindsey would benefit most from reassurance and empathy, some clear direction to start problem-solving processes, or a mixture of approaches. This emotional intelligence goes both ways in our relationship. One day recently, Lindsey just held Sarah as Sarah started crying hysterically after a conflict with Sarah’s nutritionist. Given that Sarah had been in a car accident the day before and Sarah rarely gets upset to the point of tears, Lindsey knew something was up. Nevertheless, Lindsey sat in that space with Sarah until Sarah was ready to share the specifics of what had happened. We’re profoundly grateful God has opened up to us a space of grace to be able to discern what emotional response would best draw us into a deeper relationship with one another, even though we’re still learning.

While some aspects of emotional intimacy have come naturally, other aspects of emotional intimacy are more difficult. We’ve struggled with and will continue to determine the best pathway through the difficulties associated with being open about our spiritual lives and places where our spiritualities differ. On some levels, our spiritualities are incredibly compatible: we both value intellectual honesty, placing life in the Church in its historic contexts, cultivating a prayer life, and being shaped within our specific Christian tradition. On other levels, we’re continually surprised at just how hard it’s been to honor our natural spiritual inclinations when developing our own sense of tradition. Lindsey’s faith journey has been profoundly influenced by mainstays of the Evangelical tradition, as Lindsey’s faith began to blossom in college while Lindsey was participating in Intervarsity and playing on the worship team of a nondenominational congregation. Sarah’s personal spirituality and formation has been tied to more liturgical traditions, as Sarah has naturally grown in faith through partaking of the sacraments and engaging in robust intellectual reflection. Even though our spiritualities may look very similar at first glance, we’ve learned that we value incredibly different facets of the spiritual experiences we share. We have welcomed the opportunity to learn more about each other even though we’re still learning the best way to have these conversations. That said, we should also note that we have high expectations and hopes that we will find our way.

The emotional intimacy that we’ve been able to cultivate within our partnership has also manifested in spillovers into other relationships. We find it easier to be compassionate when others are going through hard times. We can affirm other people’s emotions and create space for whatever feeling happens to be in the room. We’ve learned that matching appropriate responses with how a specific individual experiences emotion can be hard, so we try to respond first with empathy. Cultivating emotional intimacy in all one’s relationships is a lifelong process, and we’re glad to take in whatever wisdom the journey may bring.

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