Real Life Christianity

I didn’t know how to explain the situation, so I just assumed as much gentility as possible.

Staring beyond the thick-rimmed glasses of the young reference librarian, I started with my query.

“I’m doing a research paper on the pursuit of the perfect love-making experience and the role of pharmaceuticals in its evolution.”

Young librarian guy started smiling at me.

“So, umm…I’m sort of having trouble finding documentation of ancient…umm…love-making rituals. Can you help?”

“Well, that was very tactful,” he said, pulling up a chair for me at his computer. “But, we should probably use some more recognizable words in this search engine.”

A few clicks and several more explicit keywords later, we were on our way. Sort of.

The organic chemistry portion of this project had been a breeze. One afternoon with PubMed and I was a fully educated woman on PDE-5 inhibitors and the new phase of guanylate cyclase activators. In contrast, finding a paragraph of documentation about boiling bark in the old country was taking days. Painful, boring days staring out the library window and wishing for the death of this paper.

Today, I was wading through more information about Greek gods, Indian arts, and African customs when I came across this,

“The hang ups and inhibitions that most people have…are largely the result of Biblical attitudes. Sex, was something to be done only in private behind locked doors, and only for procreation. Those restrictive ideas come to us from the Bible, in which nudity is condemned as soon as Adam and Eve ate the apple (or technically, the Fruit of Knowledge of Good and Evil).”

Later…

“Adam and Eve were living in Paradise without sex. They disobeyed their god’s order not to eat fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. It is only after they eat of the fruit of knowledge that they become aware of their genitals and sex. As a result they are caste out of paradise, out of the presence of their god, into a cold, cruel, uncultivated world–where sex is evil.”

Umm…what?

What was as shocking as the mention of the Bible out of the blue (this was a site on the history of Greek customs) was the blatant and erroneous interpretation of what happened in the Garden of Eden.

It wasn’t nudity that was condemned, it was sin. After all, man was created naked—in a sinless form (Genesis 2:25). In fact, Genesis 1:27 says that man and woman were created in “[God’s] own image” and in verse 31, God says that all He made “was very good.” Thus, Adam and Eve could not have been thrown out of the Garden of Eden because they were naked. They were thrown out because they had sinned.

Also, how could Adam and Eve have only discovered their genitals or sex after they sinned? Genesis 2:22 says that Eve was created from Adam to be his companion because “it is not good for man to be alone” (verse 18). Adam and Eve were to be “united to each other (Genesis 2:24)” and to become “one flesh.” Furthermore, all of God’s living creatures were instructed to “be fruitful and increase in number” (Genesis 1:28). Eve’s creation was rooted in emotional, spiritual, and physical unity with her husband before sin.

We already know, though, that using a small portion of truth to misconstrue Biblical events (and consequently God’s character) is an old trick. The nature of sin is manipulation and cunning. It is the reason that we are instructed to question, be aware, and be discerning in this world (Matt. 10:16).

Still, I find it interesting that people who claim to be “open-minded” and “educated” still single out Christianity for examples of inhibited and punitive close-mindedness. Not only does true exploration of the Bible prove the exact opposite, but such a claim directly contradicts the outreach methods employed by most Christians. Christians aren’t known for having a particular religion singled out to analyze and condemn. If we were, I would have mentioned specific ones already in this blog with preceding adjectives like “freaky,” “weird,” or “wrong.” So, who are real close-minded and inhibited ones?

I’m sure over the next year, I’ll have plenty of time to think about that answer as my Spam folder gets filled with “free offers!,” “proven results!,” and maybe one or two more blindly ignorant ramblings. In retrospect, I should have been doing this project on a school computer and not my own laptop.

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I was on the F train barreling towards lower Manhattan when she got on.

It was Saturday night and the preceding afternoon hours had been spent driving to and then back from Westchester County with a friend.  Now, I was on my way to meet a half dozen waiting cousins for dinner in the city, near NYU. 

“The end of the world is coming!,” she proclaimed.  “And when it does, you will be raptured up!  You are just standing here now, but you won’t be!  The end of the world is coming!”

I had to pull a white earbud free from my iPod to hear her, but once I had, curiosity prevented its replacement for a good ten minutes.  

Every Christian is given the great commission of Matthew 28:19-20, but how we interpret the best way to carry that edict out can be fascinating.  Obviously, this woman was not the first proselytizer I have ever heard on a subway train.  I’m sure the same could be said for others on the train.  Yet, would I choose her method of evangelism for myself?  No.  Truth be told, I was sort of pleased that my focused, distant stare and rapid walking had caused me to be mistaken for a New Yorker more than once during this trip. (Unlike in every other city I’ve traveled in, I’m usually pretty intimidated by the NYC public transit system and avoid it!)

My evangelism usually happens over happy hours with classmates, extended sojourns in coffee houses with friends of friends, and emails later exchanged with strangers who shared a flight.  I’m a nurturer of the seeds, not necessarily a planter.  And, friendship evangelism has always been the most effective and fulfilling to me.  What about you?  How do you share the love of God?

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Sitting in the lounge downstairs at Napoleon’s, the other girls were past the verge of tipsy. It was approaching 11 p.m. after all, and my classmates and I had been here since 6 p.m.—first for dinner celebrating Nancy’s 26^th and now downstairs, people watching and dancing.

“I’ve told him I like him on more than one occasion,” Marcia told us.

Some of the other girls already knew the story about one of our other male classmates, but Kate and I didn’t.

“Then, there was the incident last summer, where he didn’t make a move,” she sighed deeply. “Either he really doesn’t like me…or he’s gay.”

We consoled her with reminders of the fact that she was cute, bubbly, and fun. She was also intensely brilliant. For him and his competitive personality, this may have been a turn-off, but clearly the problem lay with him. She was a great catch.

“Maybe he’s looking for a serious relationship and knew that a hook-up would make things awkward afterward,” I offered.

We do spend an inordinate amount of time with each other and I dared not interject stronger views about umm…more effective dating methods right now.

“Or, maybe it was weird that Steph (another classmate) was in the same apartment that night,” another friend offered.

“I think he’s just a really decent guy,” was the final piece of advice from Jenny.

“No, but we were wasted,” Marcia silenced us. “And we were in bed. Any sort of ethical reservations go at the window at that point—no matter who the guy is.”

“He’s definitely gay,” Steph concluded, urged on by nods and sighs.

It was a sad and stunning commentary on the cunning wiles of woman. We claim to want a man who is decent and upstanding and then attempt to gain his affection by putting him in positions that will challenge and compromise those very ideals.* If he crumbles, he’s a jerk and a player. If he doesn’t, he’s obviously gay.

No resolution was availed as to the questionable sexual orientation of our classmate, but his fate is likely sealed as the subject of commentary for future gatherings over Cosmopolitans and Shirley temples…at least as long as Marcia likes him (and if you even mock my choice of virgin drink in the comments, we will have words later).

Ultimately, God gives us guidelines about purity for a reason. He never intended for relationships to be built on foundations of drunken orgies and unintentional hookups. Those only pressure one or both parties into long-term relationships that aren’t even remotely indicative of the initial encounter. Instead, the Bible gives us clear instructions about waiting, trusting, and uplifting each other (Hebrews 10:24, Matt. 18:6, Hebrews 13:4, Jeremiah 29:11, Prov. 3:5-6, Matt. 5:27-30, Psalm 27:14). It’s also worth noting that the Bible depicts both wisdom and crooked adultery as female (Prov. 3:13-20, Prov. 5:1-23).

We always have a choice in these matters and knowing the modus operandi of the darker personality, I can’t say I’d exactly blame my classmate if he is…well, gay.

 

*I say “we,” because women in the Adventist church often resort to the same tactics. You may not be that woman and I may not be that woman, but trust me, they’re there. If you’re still skeptical, ask one of the leaders sometime.

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I think it was her second suicide attempt that brought her back. That, and her escalating substance abuse.

“I was raped twice…once when I was 11, then when I was 14. I did get pregnant last year, but I had an abortion…then, my depression got really bad again,” she stated, when it was her turn in group therapy.

Her revelations were disturbing, but sadly, not unique. Most of the adolescents in the outpatient day program had similar histories underlying their primary psychiatric diagnosis. Her most recent admission had been related to the suicide attempt that followed the depressive bout she was referencing.

I don’t know what she had been like in the days preceding this group, but today, her affect was bright and her mannerisms animated. After group, she happily chatted with me while we waited for her ride to arrive.

“Yesterday, Mrs. D told me that God will never give us more than we can handle,” she said. “I’ve felt better since she told me that.”

I wasn’t surprised that such advice had been offered, but of everything that had been said at the hospital that day—about the importance of taking medication as directed, applying coping skills when necessary, and coming to staff for help—I was incredulous that it was this pithy and almost trite piece of advice that had been the most meaningful.

“Well, that’s true,” I concurred, smiling. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

During our last staff in-service, though, we had been told that our hospital data showed that not only did patients with faith backgrounds recover faster, but their incidence of recurrence was markedly lower than that of other patients. Without crossing boundaries of political correctness, we were instructed to help our patients discover a reason to hope.

The need for consistent psychotherapy was still apparent, but what Mrs. D seemed to have made a difference. It was a simple and profound truth to her, but to our seventeen year old patient, it was a small source of hope.  Even if that hope would later prove fleeting, it was a start.  And, it was enough to make it through the day.

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