Rogue Reverend

Good Sex, with Diagrams

A couple of years ago, in Alabama (of course) a preacher preached a funeral. The funeral was probably a very normal service in Alabama. They probably sang a couple of hymns. They probably read some Scripture. Then the preacher probably got up to do the sermon, because every funeral in Alabama has to actually have a sermon. And most Alabama preachers are looking to get people saved at funerals.

The preacher stood to begin the sermon. He probably addressed all the people that loved the deceased, talked about how much they loved him, how he loved them, and started the sermon slowly.

But at some point in the sermon, the preacher looked out at the mourners and said, “This man was a drunkard and a fornicator. You are all drunkards and fornicators.”

Now, like I said, the preacher was probably just trying to save some souls. Apparently, the crowd jumped up, rushed to the altar, not in a frenzy to get saved, but in a frenzy to beat the preacher up. They punched him in the nose.

And then they followed him home and punched him some more.

Apparently, no one, even in Alabama, likes being called a fornicator.
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Sex in Church

My face has never been so red in church as it was this Sunday. Preaching on sex certainly has it’s challenges, and my biggest one is this beet-red face of mine. A friend watching the sermon said, “I noticed that you kept your face down, looking like you were reading more, during this sermon.”

I mean, really… How am I supposed to look church members in the eye when I’m talking about bad sex?

The sermon went really well, though. A few people commented that it was the most they’ve ever heard in church about sex. Which scares me a bit. I mean, it’s the biggest driver of our culture, don’t you think? Shouldn’t we talk about it in church?

The majority of the post-preaching discussion centered on what we teach our children. While very few of my congregants  expect that their children will remain abstinent until marriage, they still have the expectation that their children will wait until they are really old enough to decide to have healthy, consensual sex. Of course, the law tells us that the age for this is 18. Many should wait longer.

We’d all like to live in a utopia where sex is not problematic, where shame isn’t common, where maturity is understood, where the consequences of sex weren’t so life-changing or even, death-bringing. But we don’t live in that age.

We must look to our children, challenge them to wait, but give them the tools to do it right. No, I’m not talking about how to receive or give the most pleasure, but how to tell if you are emotionally ready, how to say no constructively, how to make sure that your partner is worth your time.

And how to tell someone if it goes horribly wrong.

And really, a red face was worth the trouble. Let’s see if it’s as red when I preach this Sunday on “Good Sex.”

Bad Sex

When I was 18 years old, I said to my mom, “I can’t wait to get married.” She asked, “Why?” “Because I can’t wait to have sex!” My mom stopped and looked at me. “How long do you think sex actually takes, Lia?” I answered, “Oh, I don’t know. Thirty minutes?” Remember, I was only 18! I didn’t know these things! Then my mom asked, “And how many times a week do you think couples have sex?” Well, I had seen Oprah, so I answered, “Twice a week?” So then my mom said, “Do the math. That’s 52 hours a year, barely over 2 full days a year. How important should it really be?”

That conversation has stayed with me for 22 years.

Because, on the other hand, sex is one of the major things that people think about. It is one of the driving forces behind all of our culture. We spend an inordinate amount of time thinking, planning, considering, reflecting, meditating, and cogitating on sex. Sex sells cars. Sex sells hair care products. Sex sells movies. Sex sells coffee. Sex sells everything. More »

Scandals, Cycles, and Sex

I’m preaching on sex this Sunday. I can’t figure out what to say. So I’ve been reading a lot.

This morning (thanks to Amy Butler for a facebook update idea) I read about Ted Haggard’s latest misery. If you don’t remember Haggard, he was the leader of the National Association of Evangelicals, pastor of a mega-church in Colorado, and an anti-gay activist, preaching against homosexuality and gay marriage. He is in a cycle of misery. His latest? Another gentleman speaking out about his sexual relationship with Haggard.

Haggard obviously makes me angry, because of the hypocrisy of his stance. And on a deeper level, it kills me that anyone can be so hateful and exclusive to a group of loving people.

But even more than angry, Haggard makes me sad. When we fight who we are, are dishonest about who we are and what we do, and cannot bear for the world to see us as we are, well, I just can’t imagine any worse feeling. Feeling lonely, dirty, and ultimately, like a piece of shit, sucks.

Haggard, in a letter to his church, wrote, “There is a part of my life that is so repulsive and dark that I’ve been warring against it all of my adult life….”

How do we combat that? How do we fight that feeling? First, we take off the mask, not only to ourselves, but also to those who love us. Second, we begin to understand that we are not alone feeling the way that we do. We seek others who have worked through those same feelings. And third, we allow people to love us. When we see that we are lovable, we begin to see that we can love ourselves, and the cycle goes on and we accept more love and feel more love and give more love.

Accept more love, feel more love, and give more love. Now there’s a cycle I can live with.

Umm… Mind Your Boundaries, Please

I led a discussion on boundaries today for a Peer Learning Group of ministers. It was a fun group, and they didn’t mind a little ribbing coming their way. But the topic, boundaries, really made me think some more about life and blogging. I’d like to be very clear about my boundaries.

Physically, you’re welcome to come into my space, if you are invited. Do you hear that, Mr. Kiss-Me-on-the-Mouth-on-Christmas-Eve-at-a-Church-I-Don’t-Even-Attend? Kissing is really something I only do with people I like, you know, that way. Don’t come any closer. Or I’ll do the karate chop salad mixer* on your ass.

Emotionally, I’m only going to be friends with people I want to be friends with. That leaves you out, Mr. I’m-Your-Ex-Whatever-and-Can’t-Figure-Out-Why-You-Don’t-Friend-Me-On-Facebook? Yep, you heard right. I’m de-friending you. And when you send me a note to ask why, I’m going to reply, “Really, are we friends?”

Sexually, I’m really only going to be sexual with people that I know, and that I already like. I’m sorry, Mr. I-Just-Met-You-On-OkCupid-and-Think-I’d-Like-to-Have-Phone-Sex-with-You. You’re not on the list today.

and

Spiritually. I have the right to believe what I believe and speak my mind on any issue. And so do my friends. Yep, that’s to you, Ms. I-Can-Shut-You-Up-by-Saying-You-Are-My-Enemy-or-Privileged-or-Demon-or-VICTIM. Your name calling doesn’t work, and I won’t be quieted.

*The karate chop salad mixer is best illustrated visually. Stand with both arms outstretched to your sides, parallel to the ground. Swing your midriff from side to side, swinging your arms. Hit anything that comes into your range.