Spring has blossomed, and quite literally: all the trees around campus have finally broken and flowered. The trees are blossoming, the sun is radiant, the birds are singing, and God is good. The abrupt nature of spring’s breaking always reminds me, and I have written of this before, of the restoration of the universe. We live in a world that is saturated with darkness, but dawn has come, and the day is approaching. A day will come—swift as warhorses, sudden as a lightning bolt, and as transforming as heat and pressure upon metamorphic rock (curse geology)—when the entire world will be turned upside down, and the Day will finally come, and the universe will be restored, and just as the trees blossom into flowering petals, so the universe—with galaxies and stars and planets and mountains and streams and beaches and rivers and animals and microbes—will blossom into its original beauty. I long for this day, yearn for this day, a day when pain and suffering will be no more, a day when we will receive new bodies and a new world to inhabit. Spring, in a sense, affirms what I believe to be true: that such a day is coming, and though the night is dark and seems to never pass, the dawn is breaking, and Day will come.
Monday. I
went to The Anchor after Genesis 1-11
and worked on my research paper for Gospel
of Mark. After class Deshay, Faikham and I went to Kroger and Hobby Lobby.
Deshay and I shared lots of laughs. I went to The Anchor again this evening to
reflect and read St. Paul’s pastoral epistles. It was a solid time.
Tuesday. After Geology I
went to Mt. Echo and journaled for a bit. I hung out with Stupid Farmer when I
got back. Devos were at 10:00. Mandy K. and I talked for a bit, and then I went
to bed.
Wednesday. Larry V. was in town. We got breakfast at the Hilltop at
8:00, and then I sat in on a class he taught on ministry. Isaac and I went to
The Anchor to do homework, drink coffee, and talk philosophy. Back on campus
Stupid farmer and I hung out for a little while, and then Mandy K. and I went
to Roh’s Street where we ran into Ams and Isaac. We were there until they
closed at 11:00. Kyle asked me how it went. “I like her, but I can’t be with
her.”
Thursday.After Geology, I
found Mandy doing homework in the library. “Let’s go to Highlands,” I said, and
leaning over the table, our eyes meeting, I convinced her. We got into my car
and drove into Clifton, and we got coffee and did homework and talked for
nearly three hours, an incredibly fast three hours. This girl, she’s AMAZING. I
would love to be with her. I told Gambill, “Whoever dates her will be one lucky
boy.” I wish it were me.
Geology Field Trip, Day One. Both Geology classes got breakfast at 7:30 and then we loaded into the
vans. Brock handpicked his van: me, Klink, Kugler, Lipely, Ben B., Sarah G.,
Jessie, Ams, Stephanie, Bethany, and Jessie. We drove north along back-roads,
making stops at rivers, quarries, floodplains, moraines, till plans and
terraces. Eight hours later we reached our destination: Lake James, Michigan. A
church camp situated right on the lank. We ate dinner, did devos, and then had
free time. Kugler, Klink and I meandered around campus, and then we joined
Sarah G. and Brette C. to look at constellations. Brette’s voice is exactly
like Courtney’s. Oh: yesterday I ran into Courtney four times, and we even had one awkward conversation. Yay for
those.
Geology Field Trip, Day Two. I woke at 6 AM to spend some time alone
before devos and breakfast. I drank coffee and read my Bible and wrote in my
black journal. We headed to Lake Michigan today to clamber around in the sand
dunes. We got back to the lodge by 5:00, and after dinner and a lecture we had
free time. I spent it hanging out with Jessie, Sarah G., Kugler and Ams.
Geology Field Trip, Day Three. We returned to school by 5:00. I
grabbed my car and a smoke. Tomorrow I’m going to go to The Anchor before work;
I miss that place, and it’s only been a week. Kyle and Lydia like each other. I
talked to Mandy K. A LOT this evening. She may have been flirting, but who
knows with her. Two years ago to the day I lost my virginity in the woods at
Mount Echo.
My apologies for not updating lately. Life has been somewhat hectic. Over the weekend I went on a Geology field trip with my college class. We studied glacial erratics, moraines, till plains, sand dunes, etc. Now wherever I go, I can identify the geological processes that carved the landscape. In one sense it’s pretty interesting, but on the flip side, now I can’t just drive and relax. I’ll always be thinking, “Is that just a glacial carving due to deposition or an actual moraine? And if it is a moraine, is it recessional or terminal? Was this lake at one time a kame? Is it a kettle? Or was it carved by the uplifting of soft rock by the advancement of glacial ice? Is this rock native or carried here by glaciers from Canada?” Gah. My mind is ruined. Anyhow. Here is something I wrote spring semester of 2007, something that is again presenting itself in true colors:
Certain “certitudes” bind me, and under their spells I become a slave, bending over and gritting my teeth with their lacerating lashings. I am chained by my past, unable to breathe and unable to feel, thinking that all that has ever been is all that will ever be. I am given the opportunity to take off the iron shackles, but yet I continue to turn my face from freedom. What is it that frightens me? It is the fear that freedom is hopeless, that where lies freedom, therein lies suffering. I am afraid to risk, for every time I have risked, I have been hurt. I am afraid to place my dreams before others, afraid to go forward in the face of overwhelming odds, afraid to reach out for others, afraid to expose my feelings, afraid to love. I am afraid of this because there is the great chasm of risk that must be leapt. A part of me screams to leap that chasm and see what happens; maybe my fears will die and my “certitudes” will be crushed to powder. Another part of me whispers, “Every time you have leapt, you’ve just been more bloodied, beaten, and marred than before. You’re just going to get hurt.” So I can either leap the chasm, embracing either pain in defeat or joy in victory… or I can remain among those quiet, timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.
Monday. I
hand lunch in the Hilltop with Jobst, and Mikaela and I hung out until my 2:30
class. We talked about her boy troubles and my girl troubles. I have been
praying that God will bring me a wife. Not a girl, but a wife. Brock, Lipely and I went to the Beer Sellar on the river,
then proceeded back to campus. I hung out with Ams for a bit, and then Jessie
and I went to Kroger. Mandy K. and I met up in the Oratorium in the Worship
Ministry building and had a fantastic conversation about sexual immorality,
past and present, and finding satisfaction in God. “You’re really interesting!”
she exclaimed.
Saint Patrick’s Day. I went to breakfast with Jessie and Ams. I got off work at
the Hilltop early and had my ritualistic Acai Berry Smoothie while hanging out
with Jessie, Mandy K., and Isaac. Jessie and I went to Geology, and then I hung out with Mandy K. for an hour, chatting
and laughing. I cleaned my car and sprayed it down, and then I called Mikaela.
“Are you ready?” I picked her up and we went to Pompilio’s in Newport for
dinner, and then we got ice cream at Coldstone. It was a good time. After
dropping her back off I got gas and hung around in my room for a bit before
hanging out in the Hilltop.
Wednesday. I went to breakfast with Kugler and Bethany. After work
Hensel and I went to the Beer Sellar to smoke, drink, and work on Romans homework. In the evening I wrote
a paper and hung out with Faikham, Deshay, Kugler, and Klink.
Thursday. I had class, work, and then an exam. I went to Mt. Echo for
a while, and then Jessie and I went to Claddaugh Irish Pub to celebrate our
birthdays (hers is on the 8th, too). I went to The Anchor afterwards
and wrote a short story, The Boy Who Lost
Her. It’s really depressing, albeit good, and inspired my developing
“feelings” for Mandy K., it’s about the tragedy I fear will happen: I will fall
in love, a real and genuine and heart-wrenching love, with a girl whom I’ll
never be able to tell. “Your hands
aren’t made for holding cards, they’re made for gathering nuts.” That would be
Ams.
Friday. I
went to Mom & Dad’s after my 8:00 class and did laundry, and then I went
back to campus and hung out with Faikham, Deshay, and Mandy K. We listened to
music and did homework. I had dinner at the Golden Eagle and then a bunch of us
played Egyptian Ratscrew in Student Life. I sat next to Mandy K. Our arms
touched. Her hair smelled wonderful. Everyone went bowling tonight, and I
didn’t want to go, so I went back to Mom & Dad’s and was up until 4 AM
contemplating life and romance and tragedy and God and how they’re all
interlinked.
Saturday. I woke to a debate of politics raging in the living room. I
slept on the sofa because Grandma, Aunt Teri, and Uncle Bill are here. I spent
the morning drinking coffee and doing nothing. Grandpa B. came down and helped
us mulch up some tree limbs and brush and bramble. Aunt Teri, Grandma, Mom
& I went to Subby’s for lunch; Ams came up from Cincinnati and joined us.
We went to Olive Garden for dinner with Dad and Uncle Bill joining us. I had a
glass of Spumante and some mussels. When I got back home, I jumped in my car
and drove to The Garage on Main Street. Jimmy M. invited me. I was there for an
hour before taking Megan M. back to her place. I have a problem being in large
groups where there’s lots of noise. I told Mandy K. about it over the phone
tonight. “I feel overwhelmed, isolated, extremely lonely in such situations.” I
had to leave the Garage and sit in my car for a bit and read my Bible before
feeling better.
Sunday.Aunt
Teri stepped on a coal and jumped back and sprained a muscle in her back. We
called an ambulance and the paramedics took her to the hospital. Now she’s
drugged up and doing better. Gambill told me, “Tell Mandy K. how you feel.”
No—she’s leaving in less than two months, and I’ll never see her again.
“Sometimes long distance helps relationships,” he said. Just like it helped me
and Courtney? I made a compromise: “If my feelings for her become overwhelming,
then I’ll let her know absent any expectation.”
On Friday I asked the question, “Is premarital sex wrong?” and approached the answer from a philosophical rather than theological standpoint. In this post, I am going to examine key scripture texts that are used to show how premarital sex is wrong; interestingly, there are a few biblical texts that are used that, in truth, do not apply; and there are others that simply imply it is wrong; and then there are some that explicitly, in their original linguistic context, condemn premarital sex as wrong.
Erroneous Scriptural Basis. First we’ll examine some biblical texts that are used to condemn premarital sex but which, in their original context, do not do so at all. These texts are all found in 1 Corinthians (6.9-10, 18-20; 10.8). When reading the Bible, we must keep at the forefront of our minds the situation which the letter addresses. 1 Corinthians is a multi-faceted letter with many situations addressed, but the texts above are centered around a major theme, and that is the act of sexual immorality via visiting prostitutes. Corinth was renowned for its sexual immorality, and prostitutes could be found on every street corner. What today we call “sluts” and “whores” were called, in the ancient world, “Corinthian girls.” Many of those who converted to the faith from their pagan backgrounds gave up a life of visiting prostitutes. Others, however, continued visiting the prostitutes while being Christians. St. Paul was absolutely enraged by this, because the Christian is to live a life of purity and holiness, a life reflective of his or her status of being in the covenant of God, and to live otherwise is to blaspheme both God and Christ and to live in contrariness to the life God desires His people to live. Let’s look at the three texts mentioned above and explore what they mean.
"Do you not know that the wicked will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: Neither the sexually immoral nor idolaters nor adulterers nor male prostitutes nor homosexual offenders nor thieves nor the greedy nor drunkards nor slanderers nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God." (1 Corinthians 6:9-10)
In the context of the Corinthian situation, the kind of people Paul speaks of in relation to “the sexually immoral” are either pagan temple prostitutes or those who visit the prostitutes (scholars are divided on the exact object of the phrase). To use this text to imply that those who engage in premarital sex are excluded from the kingdom of God is to this text in a manner that is not consistent with its original usage. While there is a certain validity to discovering principles found in the text, this principalizing activity must be used with caution and not loosely, as is evident in the next verse:
"Flee from sexual immorality. All other sins a man commits are outside his body, but he who sins sexually sins against his own body. Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body." (1 Corinthians 6:18-20)
Paul is not talking about premarital sex or masturbation or pornography. The sexual immorality from which Christians are to flee is the act of visiting prostitutes. Visiting prostitutes is to be avoided because 1) the body is the Temple of the Holy Spirit, 2) the body is inhabited by the Spirit, and 3) the body belongs not to you to use to fulfill carnal passions and desires but, rather, it belongs to God and is to be used in a way that honors Him. Visiting prostitutes—especially pagan prostitutes belonging to pagan temples—is in no way glorifying to God or respective towards the body which is a temple belonging not to pagan gods but to the Living God. This verse has been used to condemn all sorts of sexual sin as well as eating disorders, drinking, and smoking. While not condoning any of these, the text does not condemn them. Eating disorders, drinking, and smoking were not issues in the Corinthian church, and so Paul does not address them. It has been popular to principalize this exhortation and apply it to all sorts of things we do with our bodies, but we must be careful in doing this and realize that this text does not explicitly condemn such things.
We should not commit sexual immorality, as some of them did--and in one day twenty-three thousand of them died." (1 Corinthians 10:8)
This verse is also used to condemn premarital sex. However, the issue is not premarital sex but a different kind of sexual immorality all-together. Paul is referring back to an incident found in Numbers 25.1-9. In this Old Testament texts, the people of Israel engaged in sexual acts associated with the pagan religion of Baal worship. Paul uses this text because it can be applied to those who are engaging in sexual acts with prostitutes belonging to the temples of the Greco-Roman pagan gods. Once again Paul is exhorting the Corinthian Christians to avoid hooking up with hookers; he is not talking about sex before marriage.
Biblical Texts Implying Premarital Sex Is Wrong. The above passages from 1 Corinthians have been used to condemn premarital sex, but in their context, they do not do this. However, in a separate issue within the letter—a question concerning marriage—Paul does imply that premarital sex is wrong. The texts are 1 Corinthians 7.2 and 8-9.
"Now concerning the things whereof ye wrote unto me: It is good for a man not to touch a woman. Nevertheless, to avoid fornication, let every man have his own wife, and let every woman have her own husband." (1 Corinthians 7:1-2, KJV)
Paul writes that there is nothing wrong with being celibate (not touching a woman), and there is also good to be found in marriage. If someone is in danger of committing fornication (Greek porneia, which will be addressed in a few moments), then that person should marry. This verse, in the King James Version, implies that sex outside marriage is wrong, and the Greek word used—porneia—absolutely condemns such acts. That is why those in danger of committing this sin should marry.
"Now to the unmarried and the widows I say: It is good for them to stay unmarried, as I am. But if they cannot control themselves, they should marry, for it is better to marry than to burn with passion.” (1 Corinthians 7:8-9)
Paul reiterates what he wrote in 7.1-2: “If you are unable to control yourself, then get married.” Why? So you will have an avenue of sexual release that is pleasing to God. It is better to be married than to be filled with desire for sex with no way of fulfilling that desire; it is implied that to fulfill the desire outside marriage is to be committing a sin. These two texts imply—and, honestly, 7.1-2, as we shall see in a minute, explicitly says—that sex outside of marriage is a sin. We have looked at verses that do not support the argument that sex outside marriage is a sin, we have looked at verses that imply that sex outside of marriage is a sin, and now we will look at verses that explicitly condemn sex outside of marriage as a sin.
The Greek Word Porneia. The Greek word porneia was a blanket-term used to depict all sorts of sexual sins, including illicit sexual intercourse (that is, sex outside of the covenant of marriage), adultery, homosexual activities, sex with animals or close relative, sexual intercourse with a divorced man or woman, and it was metaphorically used to depict the worship of idols. This Greek word is often translated “sexual immorality” or “immorality,” and most readers do not know of the vast hoard of sins covered underneath this blanket-term. Keeping this in mind, let’s look at three biblical texts—where porneia, which includes sex outside the covenant of marriages—is condemned.
"But among you there must not be even a hint of sexual immorality, or of any kind of impurity, or of greed, because these are improper for God's holy people." (Ephesians 5:3)
“It is God's will that you should be sanctified: that you should avoid sexual immorality…” (1 Thess 4.3)
"Marriage should be honored by all, and the marriage bed kept pure, for God will judge the adulterer and all the sexually immoral." (Hebrews 13:4)
All three of these texts condemn porneia. Not even a hint of sexual immorality among Christians means that premarital sin should not be practiced. It is God’s desire that His people avoid porneia, which includes premarital sex/sex outside marriage. And the kicker: in Hebrews, it is written that God will judge those who dishonor the marriage bed by both adultery and porneia. It is clear, then, that sex outside marriage—premarital sex—is a sin that Christians, who are holy and “in Christ,” are to abstain from; and if the temptation to sin in this way becomes too much, the couple is advised to be married.
He stands gripping the iron-linked fence between white-knuckled fingers, and he closes his eyes and listens to the throbbing engine and feels the blast of wind tugging at his clothes, and he smells the exhaust, and the airplane roars overhead, its twin engines screaming. He whips around and watches in amazement as the plane climbs into the sky, becoming a speck before disappearing over the naked treetops. Then it is cold again, a coldness that gnaws at the bones in his fingers, a coldness that echoes the bitter ice that has wrapped around his ribs, an ice whose fingers slowly clog his arteries and tiptoe into his heart’s chambers; an ice that will kill him.
He turns and grasps the rusted fence once more, and he waits for the next plane to take off. He has always been fascinated by airplanes, and he never knew why, but now, he thinks, he does. He watches the next plane rush overhead, a single-engine prop, and he knows, for certain, why he cannot tear his eyes—his tear-soaked eyes—away from the wondrous machines taking flight: he, like them, like those pilots, wants to take flight. He wants to spread wings, and he wants to leave it all behind: the sleepless nights, the broken heart, the days spent smiling while, inside, he curls into a fetal position and weeps and yearns for death.
His dream, you see, was simple: to love and be loved. He had found it, and it had been beautiful, but it was gone before he could tell her those three words that meant everything and nothing. He had stood at this airport, and he had watched her go, had smiled and told her, “Good Luck,” while wanting to fall onto his knees and wrap his arms around her waist and bury his face into her side and beg her to stay. He had watched her plane ascend and dwindle and disappear, and he had gone back to his car and sat in the driver’s seat and didn’t leave the parking garage because his eyes were too blotched from the tears. They say there is only “One,” and he believed he found her, and he believes he has lost her. She is gone, now no more than a memory that does not fade but grows sharper, a memory that does not dim but grows brighter. He had never told her how he felt, had never confessed how deeply he liked her—how richly he loved her. He had never confessed how he could see them together forever, how they could be happy and content, how they could, together, raise a wonderful family. He had told her nothing, only “Good Luck,” and then he had watched her go, out of his life, but never out of his heart. She will be with him forever, a haunting phantom, a poisonous memory, a bitter regret, surrounding him in his dreams, calling out his name. He cannot escape her, nor the pain, nor the tears, nor the sorrow; and so he begins to climb.
They say love—genuine, raw, and heart-wrenching love—is selfless. He had loved her from the moment their eyes met—those gaping brown eyes whose depth could not be pierced even by the sun’s most violent rays—and he had known he would have no fate but to watch her go. They say love is a perfect match, polar opposites pulled together into an inseparable bond. But he knows there is no such animal; love is bizarre, unpredictable, and doomed to provide nothing but a freeze-dried corpse. She had always dreamed of going to Africa and starting orphanages; her great heart was, perhaps, reflected in those eyes. He had always dreamed of being a husband and a father, but she never wanted to settle down. He dreamed of gardening, taking his children to baseball games, and falling asleep beside the love of his life with nothing but a blanket of stars keeping watch overhead. They say love is the welding of two hearts into a single organic rhythm; he knows there is no such thing. It is an illusion, a fairy-tale; real love is marked by tears and not by bliss. She had not wanted his dream, had wanted to be an adventurer; and so any such “love” was doomed, from the start, to be broken.
The snow crunches underfoot as he nears the tarmac. He had said, “Come, let us reason together,” and he decided to avoid her, to never again peer into those enrapturing eyes. But she was an enigma, a phenomenon, and against all wisdom and logic, he was drawn to her side. They developed a fantastic friendship, and all the while he knew, in his heart of hearts, that he was diving into a pit where he would starve, wither away, and become nothing but a raggedy-clothed skeleton infested with rats and mice. But love is like that; it is an entity that seduces and enslaves and takes control of the body’s members and carries the person into the darkest corners of Hell. He was seduced, and he was enslaved, and after they talked on the phone every night, after he told her, “You’re such a wonderful friend,” he would cry himself to sleep and dream of being with her forever; bittersweet dreams: sweet because they promised all he wanted, and bitter because they promised a promise that could not be delivered. He wept as he fell asleep, and he wept when he awoke; but he will weep no more.
He can see the lights at the end of the runway, the lights that beckon him forward as he steps onto the tarmac, the lights that promise nothing he wanted and everything he wants. It was love that had drawn him into her presence, and it is love that draws him forward. It is love—not love lost but love never realized—that holds him in its iron vice. It is love—not love shared but love never known—that sends adrenaline coursing through his veins. He could not live with her, and he cannot live without her. The lights grow larger, nearing, and the engines roar; but he does not see the lights, sees only those eyes, those eyes so bright and beautiful and brilliant; and he does not hear the engines but hears only her laugh, that laugh that has echoed in his mind ever since the day he watched her plane take flight. Now he is running down the highway, and he feels his heart—a heart long-dead but still beating rebelliously behind his ribs—thunder in his chest. He can see the tall grass waving in the breeze, can see the sprawling trees rising out of the earth, and he can see her now, surrounded by children who cling to her, for she is their only mother; but she does not see him, and he calls out her name, and she does not hear him. He falls to his knees in the grass.
He is kneeling on the pavement, tears sprinkling upon his cheeks and freezing in the cold, droplets of ice upon his face. His head is bowed, a final prayer, a prayer for deliverance, a prayer that shall be answered. He calls out her name, but she does not respond. He looks up, and he sees not the plane bearing down upon him but only her face, and he doesn’t hear the shrieking propellers but only her words—“We could never be like that, and you knew it.” Her face is the last thing he sees, and her words are the last thing he hears, and then he is nothing but bits of bones and ripped clothing and tattered flesh, nothing but a streak of blood trailing down the runway, and he knows her no more.
