A Eunuch for Christ...?

It's always good to re-connect with people from the places we've been. It's a fresh reminder of who we are and how we got to the place we find ourselves in today. These encounters give us a chance to evaluate ourselves in the here and now, asking questions about the silly things we believed and did back then compared to the hopefully less silly things we believe and do now.

This week, my past has been shoved in my face in two completely different ways. The first way caught me off guard completely. I logged into my Facebook, like I do countless times every other day, and I saw a group invitation. This is slightly more rare, as I have rejected the past 837 group invites that have been sent to me, and people seemed to be getting the message pretty clearly. Well, this invite was different to say the least. Apparently, my high school class has decided that a five year reunion would be in order. Most of us think this will be a good idea, as half of us went to OTC, MSU or Drury and never left Springfield, and the other half hope to show the rest how far we've gone. So, the plans went down. The interesting thing about all of this is that Facebook wasn't around when we were in high school (waaaay back in the day, I know), so most of my current "friends" are from my college years or beyond (the beyond symbolizing one whole, long, brutally agonizing year). So, every time I've logged in since this fateful Facebook event, I've been gaining a gaggle of new friends who are really old friends.

All of this got me thinking about high school. High school was, in hindsight, not so bad. At the time, it seemed like Hell had opened up beneath my feet and then had rejected me for wearing the wrong jeans. In fact, the problem with high school was not the wrong jeans or even the gaping hole to the Underworld. In truth, it was me. I was (WARNING to my "evangelical" readers [like I have readers. Thanks, Mom]) a dick (disclaimer: there simply aren't any more accurate terms in the English language; I sincerely apologize). I was a narrow-minded, egocentric, misogynistic, legalistic, arrogant and pompous, pretentious bastard (Whoops, guess I did find another accurate description). I had 20 pounds of self-righteous shit in a 10 pound manure sack. And I wondered how these people who had known such a Dizzle Bizzle would see me now. And then I wondered if I was really any different.

The second reminder was expected, but my reactions were not. Tonight, a former prof of mine from good ol' Southwest Baptist Univ came and spoke at the Well. He talked about Matthew 19, a passage about marriage, divorce and the third option of castration. Then we moved on to Paul's advice to the Corinthian church about marriage in 1 Cor. 7 (a passage I am contemplating having read at my wedding, rather than the stereotypical chapter 13). This prof (who I suspect might read this blog, seeing as how he knows I read his and to not reciprocate at least occasionally might be considered rude in some corners of the blogosphere) used these two passages and the living illustration of Shane Claiborne to talk about how often we hold back on our pursuit of Christ. We often allow our devotion to be divided by the necessary attention a spouse requires, or by the possibility of promotion or wealth and by a whole slew of other things. So far, I followed. But then we stepped into some uneasy ground for me.

The challenge was that the students (and presumably all people within earshot) ought to focus solely on their devotion to the Lord. They shouldn't pursue a mate, as Paul warns, but they should pursue Christ. The question was then, "For how long do we seek God before we are allowed to find our One and Only True Love?!" And this man's answer is what shocked me. He said that we should never seek a spouse. I find that such an argument could be drawn from Paul's letter, but there were more words following the claim from this man's lips. He reasoned that if God intended for us to have a spouse, God would bring us a spouse. And she would better than the one we could find on our own. It was as I heard the "Amen" from the guy next to me (who is, ironically, chronically committed to one woman or another), that I realized how much I have changed.

When I was in high school, I took a vow not to date until I was sixteen, a vow that I gracelessly broke. But even despite my weakness, I still believed that God had one girl out there for me, and maybe this girl was it. Maybe that's why I had fallen from the grace of faithful adherence to my own word. Well, when that relationship ended rather brutally, I tried another and another, always deep in prayer, looking for the one who God had to compliment my weaknesses and fit together with me like some pair of cheesy half-heart necklaces.

But as I think back on who I was then and begin to see some of who I am now, I realize that such a perspective, though I'm willing to admit it might be right, scares me because it is incredibly self-centered. When my former professor encouraged the students to never seek a partner, and wait for the Lord to bring them one, I began to shift in my seat like a man about to fart in court. It made me incredibly uncomfortable. And as the "amen's" echoed of the high ceilings in that chapel, I wondered what a faithful man who truly waited for a spouse would look like. If I were that man, and such a woman did come along, I think I would be inclined not to genuinely care for her. I wonder if such an attitude is almost a cop-out, putting the beauty and wonder of that woman as secondary and her place as a reward for my patient endurance as the primary. I also feel that if a woman were truly dropped on my lap, I would have no realistic expectation of how much time and work it would require.

I don't intend to argue with Scripture, as I tend to think it's right. But at the same time, I think Paul does clearly point out that marriage as an institution that takes time and energy is a somewhat timeless truth. It always has, and it always will. I fear that teaching young people to wait for a lifelong mate to be dropped on our laps is like handing a loaded Glock 9mm to a kid who plays too much Halo.

And I don't wonder if Paul's perspective on marriage wasn't based on his belief that "the times [were] shortened." The Parousia of Christ was not far off, and what time did we have to waste with the concerns of this world? Money, relationships and countless other distractions would soon be entirely meaningless because the coming Christ would soon fully bring a new kingdom. And maybe the question of marriage and spouse-seeking has some new considerations these days, not that Paul's advice was bad or is somehow now irrelevant. But instead, maybe we've been listening too intently for too long and have begun to live in ways that are not entirely sensitive to reality. Maybe we have read Paul point blank, taking him so literally as faithful adherents to Scripture that our application of his words might cause more harm than good.

When I think about who I was in high school, who these new old Facebook friends remember me as, I think that I was exactly that kind of person. I was so sold on religion as a magic remedy to a sin problem that I built a sturdy fence with barbed wire and electrical currents to keep myself isolated from distractions and devoted solely to the Lord. Unfortunately, I might have left great war-torn patches of dead, exposed earth and bleeding corpses in my wake of insincerity and judgment.

Maybe I oughta consider this eunuch thing...