I’m not in the habit of responding to stuff I read, but every once in a while something shoots across the Interwebs that might cause me to make an exception.  This week an article bounced around Facebook which was mostly fantastic, and I think a lot of good will come from it.  But it also contained an element of something I find very, very troublesome, enough so to undercut much of what made it really good otherwise, and that element warrants some pushback.

This particular article was by a young woman named Lily Dunn and appeared on Relevant’s website.  The author took a real risk by being transparent about her difficult transition from “saving it for marriage” to “yay, married sex!”  In that respect it was a courageous article, and I think one of the great things that may come from it is that a lot of young Christians who, like my wife and I, encountered the same emotional, physical, and/or spiritual faceplant in their early married lives are not alone and it really will be OK.  I agree with so many of the things that she wrote, that at some point I think it would be totally worthwhile for me to expand on some of the themes from her article in my own orphan blog.

For all that she wrote that I appreciate, however, there is a thread running throughout her writing that seems to have become fashionable among Christian Millennials.  This article was hardly the worst example of it; actually, what made it a little depressing for me is that this was one of the best articles in which I have encountered it.  Often when I find this theme, it is in an immature screed whose author needs to go back to his room and grow up some more.  That’s not the case here.  This author had a valuable point to make…but she pulled the rug right out from under herself while making it when she titled her article “4 Lies the Church Taught Me About Sex.”

At first I thought the headline must be the result of Relevant just doing what Relevant often does, throwing provocative stuff out there as clickbait to “start a conversation.”  That was my initial assumption because, despite several readings, I cannot find anywhere in what Dunn shared where “the Church” explicitly lied to her four times (or even one time) about sex.  Gave confusing advice, maybe, or made errors of omission, but “lied”?  That’s a pretty ugly accusation if you believe words mean things.  But, from her followup blog post, I understand her to say that the headline was the result of careful wordcrafting every bit as much as the article itself.

With that in mind, from this point on I want to make something very clear: There are two different issues all tangled up together here that I doubt I can keep totally separate.  On the pursuit of sexual purity and what often comes with it unexpectedly, I am in agreement with much of what Mrs. Dunn wrote and commend her for having the guts to write it.  On the reflexive habit by many Christians of taking shots at “the Church” for letting them down, I think it is past time for some perspective and some grace.

Four Ideas About Sex I Picked Up Along The Way Which, In Retrospect, Turned Out To Be Pretty Much Wrong

I take Mrs. Dunn completely at her word about her experiences in evangelical purity culture.  My own experiences–what I’ve heard, and where I’ve heard it–differ in some respects from hers, which makes neither of us “right” or “wrong.”  But the “lies” she mentions (only guys care about sex, being married automatically removes any feelings of guilt or shame you have about sex, etc.) are lies I have believed myself.  My wife and I have talked about and laughed about and been frustrated about and, in our interaction with engaged and newlywed students, determined to do something about the same lies and others closely related to them.  But it never occurred to either me or Stacie to lay the blame for those lies at the feet of “the Church.”  Of the four lies, I’ve only heard one (that laugher about girls not being interested in sex) even strongly implied by anybody in any credible position of ecclesiastical authority.  (I repeat: my experiences are mine, and the author’s are hers, and that’s all.)

But the lies are real.  They are ugly, and hold a sinister power to destroy your confidence in yourself and in the beautiful person you married.  And because of omission or confusion in teaching about sex, particularly about the difficult transition from abstinent singleness to married sexuality, “the Church” certainly bears some responsibility for a job done incompletely.  But “the Church” is only one player, and I would argue an incidental one much (if not most) of the time, in the creation of these lies.

I argue that a far larger contributor is our hypersexualized culture, which increasingly respects no boundaries on sexual expression and accepts no responsibility for its careless exercise.  Hookup culture is the soundtrack of contemporary adolescence (even for Christian kids), settling so completely and stealthily into the background that we don’t even notice how it is restructuring our foundational assumptions about sex.  And since the culture war is (so I keep hearing) over and lost, we barely acknowledge the scandal of how the entertainment, fashion, and publishing industries are selling–literally!– the ghastly lie of sex without consequence to each new desensitized and submissive generation.  Dunn herself lays some of the false images behind at least one of the lies at the feet of Hollywood.  So why blame “the Church” for teaching the lie?

I also argue that we cannot overlook a second contributor: our own unrealistic expectations (fueled by uncritical acceptance of pop culture’s input) and unfounded assumptions (filling in the gaps between the hookup culture’s lies and “the Church’s” imperfect attempts to teach us the truth).  Even Dunn cites more examples of what appear to be her own assumptions than actual examples of bad advice she got from “the Church.”  In fact, at one point she notes that one of the lies was actually countered in large measure by what she had heard in “the Church.”  So again, why blame “the Church” for teaching the lie?  I want to be sensitive here, because it takes some real strength to say “I struggled with this” in open forum where nerds like me can nitpick.  But while we all make the mistake of shifting responsibility for our own assumptions–understandable, yes, but still assumptions–to someone else, it is still unfair to do so.

Let’s also talk a little bit about history, here (because, you know, that’s what I do and I just can’t help myself): The “purity movement,” which has had a lot of darts flung at it lately from outside and even inside Christian circles, hasn’t been around that long.  In fact, it is so young that True Love Waits is only now finally old enough to drink.  Today’s graduates of the purity movement can’t remember the time in the not-too-distant past when old cultural norms about sex and marriage (idealized, yes, but far more culturally dominant than today) were shattered in the wake of The Pill and the Sexual Revolution in the Sixties, and how “the Church,” in a very decentralized and chaotic way, had to cobble together a coherent response on the fly.  I think we can agree that is hasn’t always been done well and, as Dunn noted, has often emphasized negative motivations (“herpes!”) over positive ones (“oneness!”).  Ultimately any movement must be judged on its effectiveness, not just its intentions.

But there is a reason it is called the “purity” movement: It recognized that sex, whether expressed as God intended or for more self-serving purposes, is a spiritual act as much as a physical one, and that healthy sexuality is only one aspect of a healthy (pure) relationship with God.  Purity involves the mind and the soul, not merely the STD-free and non-impregnated (or non-impregnating) body.  Where the purity movement deserves criticism, it is in straying from this principle (as movements often do in their second generation).  And where those of us who came of age in the confused battlefield of Hookup Culture vs. True Love Waits made a self-gratifying concept of “awesome married sex!” a priority over spiritual purity, we must accept responsibility for our own decisions and their consequences.

About “the Church”

Let’s get to the real goathead in my sandal here.  It has become almost cliché to criticize “the Church” and find fault with “the Church” and blame “the Church” for letting us down, even as we conveniently let ourselves off the hook.  We dehumanize “the Church,” making it some indistinct entity or program we are free to cut down without consequence, and the more we cut it down the more we are free to dehumanize it.  When we do attach a face to “the Church” it is someone like Reverend Moore from Footloose, more concerned with controlling people’s behavior and spoiling their fun than helping them to live sanctified lives of joy in Christ.  And then we stand apart from this artificial abstraction we have created, plucking out the fistfuls of sawdust we have thrown its straw face and googly eyes.

Over the years my wife and I have found some of our friendships to be unbearably uncomfortable; at the top of the list are those Christian couples (and you know some) who have no trouble saying unkind things about and even to each other in public.  It would never occur to me to complain about Stacie or denigrate her in any way, on social media or private company, even if she did so something to disappoint me or even hurt me, and the next time she does that to me would be the first time I’ve heard of it.  We trust each other, we respect each other, and we protect each other’s dignity.  But the “pair of snipes” phenomenon reminds me of our new generation of self-described “authentic” Christians who sometimes, whether they mean to or not, appear to be trying to stand apart from something they are a part of.

Now, Dunn’s article adopted this attitude only in small measure, possibly without intention, and absent the regrettable clickbait headline I wouldn’t even be mentioning it now.  But, you know…”lies.”  Intentional or not, that’s pretty harsh.  I believe the Church–the body of Christ, you and I–need to bury this careless and uniquely corrosive form of judgmentalism and replace it with a more humble “we can do better.”

In the context of this discussion, who is “the Church” anyway?

Yes, “the Church” is the too-impatient and out-of-touch preacher who does all the “right” things for all the wrong reasons.  I agree with you, that still makes him wrong.

But “the Church” is also the long-suffering preacher or youth minister or other staffer whose work is often done out of sight and unrecognized, who hears some version of “you’re doing it wrong!” more often than they hear “thank you for what you did for me.”

What’s more, “the Church” is also your married bridesmaid who built up your unrealistic expectations with that sassy lingerie at your bridal shower, or your married groomsman who joked all night at your bachelor party about what you would be doing in 24 hours, but who never pulled you aside and said “hey…let’s have coffee and talk about how it really is.”

Yes, “the Church” includes the people who practice courtship and forbid dates without chaperones or  hand-holding before engagement and who save even first kisses for the altar.  (It doesn’t work for me either…but some people freely choose it, and some people who do find it works for them.  Good for them.)

But “the Church” is also the woman who came of age in the Sexpool Seventies; who lives daily with the physical, emotional, or spiritual consequences of mistakes she made; who, in her zeal to make sure you don’t have to endure the same lifetime of regrets, probably got a little overzealous about where boundaries should be set on things like hand-holding.

And “the Church” is the “good kid” whose heart intended to wait until he was married but whose mind didn’t know the importance of setting clear boundaries; whose body, in the heat of the moment, found that each fuzzy boundary was easier to cross than the last; who is now a little nervous and his words don’t come out quite right and he doesn’t cover all the possibilities when he stands in front of his teenage son and his high school youth group, hoping they can learn from his mistakes and live free from the same guilt and regrets.

And “the Church” is the volunteer youth sponsor who burned her only week of vacation for the year to chaperone the high school youth retreat and, feeling led by the Spirit, took a risk and opened up about this subject in a way she never thought she would after lights-out with the girls in her room.  Maybe if you’d been assigned to that room you would have listened, or maybe not.  Two of the girls in her room didn’t and by the next morning forgot all about it, and years later claimed nobody ever talked to them about this stuff.  One girl did, and a mentoring relationship started which blessed her for the rest of her life.

And “the Church” is the person in the mirror.  You know, the person who is sometimes too quick to complain but too slow to offer solutions.  The person who sometimes dwells on being let down by others but sometimes lets others down in the same way.  The person who sometimes wants understanding and grace after messing up, but sometimes doesn’t take the time to understand others or show them grace when they mess up.

We don’t stand apart from “the Church.”  We are the Church.  If the Church is going to get blamed for stuff, it should at least deserve what it is being blamed for.  And then we–the Church–need to own it, show each other a little grace when our imperfect actions fall short of our perfect intentions, and spur (not shame) one another on to love and good deeds as we humbly try to do better.  That doesn’t mean we have to agree with everyone in the Church or everything done in the name of the Church (because we shouldn’t!), just that we respect the Church for what it is and protect its dignity to the best of our poor ability.

For You, Most Excellent Lily Dunn

Nothing I have written so far has been directed personally at the author of the article in question, but I’d like to close with a note to Lily Dunn.  Not that I ever expect you to read this, because it sounds like you have received enough comments and email to build a bridge from Daegu to Seattle, but you just never know.  I’m a little dizzy after what has been like riding two horses at once writing this schizophrenic post, so if I haven’t made any sense yet I hope to start now.

I obviously have taken issue with one aspect of what you wrote, which struck a discordant nerve in me.  But that doesn’t lessen my overall appreciation for the message in your Relevant article, not to mention my respect for you and your husband for being willing to broach such a difficult and personal topic with openness and wit.  I think many people will be encouraged by what you had to say, and their lives will be better for it.  And, maybe, more friends and mentors will take it upon themselves, sometime between “yes!” and “I do,” to take their engaged friends out for coffee and awkward conversation.  As I consider what you wrote weighed against my own experiences, I think that is something we can all do a lot better going forward than we have done in the past.

If I have misinterpreted you in any way, or cast you in an unfair light, or otherwise made too much out of too little, I am sorry and ask your forgiveness.

May you be a conduit of blessing for many, in Korea and beyond, as you help those on the same journey navigate the path you have traveled.

rk