Calvin: Can I watch the movie “Killer Prom Queen” on TV?
Calvin’s Mom: No.
Calvin: Do I have to eat this slimy asparagus?
Calvin’s Mom: Yes.
Calvin: Can I stay up till midnight?
Calvin’s Mom: No.
Calvin (disgusted): There’s an inverse relationship between how good something is for you, and how much fun it is…
–Calvin and Hobbes, Bill Watterson, 1987
There is comfort in hoping that it doesn’t bother everybody as much as I think, and in knowing that his exuberance is from the heart, and in reminding myself that before too many years we probably won’t be able to get him to sing at all. But in the meantime my awe at Sam’s ability to hit the resonant frequency of the basketball goal is quickly overshadowed by annoyance at his triple-decibel renditions of the praise songs during worship. That annoyance is mostly because of embarrassment that everyone in the building can hear my kid belting it out, and partly because of a secret jealousy. I wish I could fling caution to the wind and revel in that kind of unconscious glee as I worship God. Instead, like Michal despising her husband from the window, my acute awareness of anything that might make me look like a fool keeps me far away from enjoying such freedom (how ironic that is: the fool is the one who does not dance when the ark of God is coming into town).
This came to mind, oddly enough, when Rick was preaching last Sunday. It was convicting to hear about the ways we come up with to twist God’s gift of sexuality into the various kinds of perversion that seem to satisfy our hearts. What struck me was that there are two basic kinds of people sitting there listening to that: a) people who are in a sexual relationship and struggle to engage in that Christianly, and b) people who are not in a sexual relationship and struggle to be content with that status. The message of the Gospel to me on Sunday was a clarion call to find my identity in Christ, and having done that, to pursue a fulfilling sexual relationship with my wife as though my life depended on it. And that not for its own sake, but because in so doing we glorify God and serve each other (do not all the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments?) in ways that are symbolic of the relationship we have both physically and spiritually. It is an exclusive call as it constrains me to maintain the purity of my wedding vows, but at the same time it is an invigorating one. Those who suppose that Christian marriage as God meant it to be is a dull, tedious, or oppressive concern have obviously never experienced it. To enjoy your spouse in the most private of relationships with complete abandon, while opening your marriage up to godly influence and counsel from trusted brothers and sisters in the Church, is an undertaking of the most daunting (and rewarding) degree. It will require all the time, energy, creativity, emotional involvement, commitment, repentance, growth, love, forgiveness, and outpouring of yourself that you can stand – and more. It is the relational equivalent of Sam standing on his chair waving his hands in the air and shrieking out the music at the top of his voice. It is living with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.
The message of the Gospel to Christians who are not married seems, as we first comprehend it, to be totally different. The exclusiveness of the marriage covenant rises up before us and throws the bars of its doors into place with a crash that echoes far into our consciousness, leaving us on the outside of the chamber. It seems to be a resounding “no” in the wake of a whole string of “yes’s”, an apparent prevarication in the mind of our Maker as he turns from nodding approval over the sexuality of others to consign us to a life of sacrifice and denial. The distinction is certainly not fair – God himself never pretends that it is – and there is a latent resentment left over from our childhood’s keen sense of injustice that rankles at it. If sexuality is so wonderful, why should it not be for all of us? Can there be any good reason for God to bestow this expression of truth and beauty on some of his children, and withhold it from others?
These are real questions, and in their essence they are asked by every person no matter what our situation. They are the cry of an immortal soul that was not created to live among mortality, and in these questions we voice a tendency that is at once one of the sins most common to man and one of the profoundest critiques we can muster against a broken world: discontent. While our desire as regenerated beings is to be holy, and thus we lean into the prospect of a world in which no cross will ever be borne again, yet we are called to struggle here in deprivation and sorrow. It is not wrong to feel sad about what we do not have, it is not wrong to want something more, it is not even wrong to pursue it; but it is wrong to chafe under the guiding hand of God. When I decide that the burden God has given us to bear is the wrong one, and in sudden ire I leave it by the side of the road and take a more delectable-looking load on my shoulders, I do violence to the wisdom of God in accomplishing my sanctification and heap burning coals on my head. At such a time I am forgetting that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose; not mine. If God knows how I need to change so as to be fitted to live with him, and if God is sovereign over all things, and if both trials and blessings are deliberate situations into which I am put to demonstrate the power of God through my life, then a different point of view becomes necessary.
For at that point my life is no longer about enjoying myself, or feeding my lusts, or shaping the world around me to suit my preferences. It is about taking the score I am handed by the conductor and playing that music, and no other. And if my timbre is different from that of the fellow across the aisle, should my part be played less sweetly? Should my desire for something more (noble though that desire be) prevent me from partaking in the glorious ecstasy of music that is accomplished when every member of the orchestra gives his utmost? Surely not. Each has his own gift from God, one of one kind and one of another. It is when we accept the lot we are cast, especially in the face of the deepest longings of our heart, that God is truly glorified in our obedience.
And dare we think that the story ends there? My beloved unmarried brother or sister at Holy Cross, you who feel the sting of your chastity every time you choose to follow Jesus in maintaining your sexual purity: hear this, and know that the story is not over. You bear on your bodies the mark of Jesus, for when he came to earth to do his Father’s will, as a single chaste person Jesus carried the very same burden he asks of you. Though it is a great joy for me to glorify God in my marriage, you bear a cross that is more like Christ’s than mine. If God has in store a Christian husband or wife to come alongside you, we will rejoice with you and encourage you to enter into that delight with all that you are. If God has put you on a road that is yours to walk alone, Paul says you have chosen the better thing. And the Day of our Bridegroom is fast approaching, when in a mystery we cannot now comprehend we are all to be presented to our Lord as a Bride holy and without blemish. Our walk on this earth is short, and Jesus says that those who have given up much for him in this life will receive much in the next.
I am fully convinced that my wife and I will be together in Heaven. This position is informed from a completely emotional perspective on my part and has no Biblical warrant whatsoever (in fact, you can make a fairly good case against it Biblically), yet I am obstinately uninterested in considering the alternative. Since we met 17 years ago the love and tenderness that have characterized our friendship, and eventually our marriage, would be meaningless if they were simply to meld into a universal Christian consciousness, a faceless heavenly throng that did not have the face of my best friend. I cannot conceive of what my eternal reward would be worth if our relationship in this life were not consummated by embarking on eternal life together as well. In the simplicity of my faith I believe God will honor our love. And for the same reason I am firmly convinced that those who are faithful with a different scope of delight in this life will receive in over-abundance the reward that is due them for their labors. For the children of the desolate one will be more than the children of her who is married, and he who has lost his life for the sake of the Gospel will find it. Come and listen with me to the Master’s call: Christian, do you love Me more than these?
Author: Jeremy Vogan
My name is Jeremy Vogan. I live in Staunton, VA with my wife and four kids. I love to write, and seek to honestly explore the intellectual and emotional implications of following Jesus as a deeply broken person in a twisted, cruel world that is full of veiled beauty and meaning. Writing is part of how I faithfully look for Jesus Christ to someday make all things new. I'd enjoy hearing your feedback! JV