During my Internet meanderings today I overheard someone talking about a recent article published by The Gospel Coalition. The referenced article was Sex Won’t Save You (But It Points to the One Who Will) by Josh Butler. I searched for the article, found it, and read it. In search of a few more comments I ended up on the Twitter page of Brett McCracken’s, who is senior editor of The Gospel Coalition. He had retweeted the article, describing Josh Butler as one of today’s best Christian thinkers on the theology of sex and gender.

The article is an excerpt from an upcoming book called Beautiful Union. Brett McCracken describes the book as “the Protestant magnum opus on sexual ethics we’ve been waiting for.” The majority of the commenters did not share his high praise. As to be expected on the internet, there was outrage and mockery. And perhaps a share of fair criticism. I don’t really know what I think about it myself, so I thought I’d take some time to try and figure it out. I’m going to go through the article paragraph by paragraph, with the original paragraphs bolded in order to set them apart. This isn’t meant to be an official review or commentary.

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I used to look to sex for salvation. I wanted it to liberate me from loneliness; I wanted to find freedom in the arms of another. But the search failed. My college sweetheart dumped me. I found a rebound to feel better about myself—and hurt her in the process. I then fell head over heels for the “girl of my dreams” (at the time) and spent the next five years pining after this friend who didn’t feel the same.

I wanted to feel wanted, yet I wound up alone.

I think a lot of people can relate to this. Being that this is an excerpt from a book and not a solitary article, I don’t know what comes before this part. Is he talking about sex or is talking about relationships? He says he used to look to sex for salvation, and then goes on to describe former relationships in his life. He speaks of desiring freedom from loneliness. He admits to wanting to feel wanted. He says he ended up alone, which I take to mean that the relationships he describes did not produce for him the freedom he desired or salvation he was looking for.

Our culture looks to sex for salvation too. We want romance to free us from solitary confinement, to deliver us into a welcome embrace. But idolizing sex results in slavery. You can chart up your long list of ex-lovers and join Taylor Swift in telling the newest applicant, “I’ve got a blank space, baby, and I’ll write your name.” You can end up in the Egypt of a new romantic wasteland, more cynical and isolated than when you first began. Yet I’ve discovered a crucial corrective in the gospel that can lead us out into true freedom.

Sex wasn’t designed to be your salvation but to point you to the One who is.

He mentions looking to sex for salvation again. Then he speaks about romance. Then he goes back to talking about sex and how its idolization results in slavery. It does not appear that his references to sex here are mentioning anything related to the experience of physical pleasure. He uses the word “embrace” which implies the loving acceptance of another human being. He continues talking about sex in the context of past relationships, or potential but ultimately failing new ones. It isn’t entirely clear to me if he realizes he’s doing this, or in what way he sees the two (sex/relationships) as related or interchangeable. Ultimately, he sees “sex” as pointing to a greater divine being with the power to save.

Sex is an icon of Christ and the church. In Ephesians 5:31-32, a “hall of fame” marriage passage, the apostle Paul proclaims, “‘For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and cleave to his wife, and the two will become one flesh.’ This is a profound mystery—but I am talking about Christ and the church” (NIV; I’ve translated proskollao as “cleave”).

I’m not sure if “Sex is an icon of Christ and the church” is accurate, or if this is the best passage to use to make his point, which at the very least, I think, is to say that sex (in marriage?) has a deep and profound spiritual meaning. Without further clarification, this seems to reduce marriage to sex, when it is profoundly so much more than that.

Now, the context here is marriage. “Leave and cleave” is marriage language and the surrounding verses are all about husbands and wives, not hook-up culture. Yet that second part, about the two becoming one flesh, is consummation language that refers to the union of husband and wife.

Paul says both are about Christ and the church.

He is zeroing in on the “one-flesh” language. He uses this to confirm that to speak of being one-flesh is to also speak in some way of Christ and the church.

This should be shocking! It’s not only the giving of your vows at the altar but what happens in the honeymoon suite afterward that speaks to the life you were made for with God. A husband and wife’s life of faithful love is designed to point to greater things, but so is their sexual union! This is a gospel bombshell: sex is an icon of salvation.

This seems to be a very important point and discovery for him. I like this part–“that speaks to the life you were made for with God.” It seems to me that he speaks of the husband and wife’s life of faithful love and their sexual union as two different things, instead of the sexual union being part of a husband and wife’s life of faithful love. Here sex is set apart from the relationship, or at least emphasized as something special within it. The language is slightly different here. Before he said sex is an icon of Christ and the church, and now he’s saying sex is an icon of salvation. Does he mean the same thing or different things by this? I’m not trying to be picky, I’m just trying to wrap my head around what he’s trying to say.

How? I’d suggest the language of generosity and hospitality can help us out.

Generosity and hospitality are both embodied in the sexual act. Think about it. Generosity involves giving extravagantly to someone. You give the best you’ve got to give, lavishly pouring out your time, energy, or money. At a deeper level, generosity is giving not just your resources but your very self. And what deeper form of self-giving is there than sexual union where the husband pours out his very presence not only upon but within his wife?

I feel like things are starting to become more muddled. I like the generosity description. But then he equates the deepest form of self-giving as the sexual union, describing the husband’s role in this. In Ephesians 5, the giving mentioned in reference to Christ and the church is the fact that he gave up his very life for her. The life of Christ was given for us, poured out for us in a life of love as he walked the earth, and in the life he willingly surrendered when he died on the cross. His offering and gift was one of heart, body, and soul. Our salvation came in his shedding of blood.

Hospitality, on the other hand, involves receiving the life of the other. You prepare a space for the guest to enter your home, welcoming him warmly into your circle of intimacy, to share your dwelling place with you. Here again, what deeper form of hospitality is there than sexual union where the wife welcomes her husband into the sanctuary of her very self?

I have no hostility towards this man’s thoughts. I’m simply sharing what comes to mind. When a woman has sexual intercourse with a man, it is true that she is engaging in something very intimate and personal. There are no other physical instances that I can think of where you are that close to another human being in terms of nakedness of body. Their bodies do become one flesh through their joining and merging. Something very different, but similar, happens to a woman in pregnancy. While speaking in terms of hospitality, you could say that sex for a wife is surely in some way a taking in of her husband, women also experience this in pregnancy. In pregnancy a whole being grows inside her, receiving life and nourishment from the body that holds it.

Giving and receiving are at the heart of sex.

I want to say giving and receiving are at the heart of love, and sex in marriage is a part of that.

Obviously, a man and woman both give to each other and receive from each other in the sexual act. Sex is mutual self-giving. Yet, on closer inspection, there’s a distinction between the male and female sides of the equation.

The mutuality is what creates the union, yet in complementarian thought, the higher emphasis is placed on the distinction, insisting on keeping separate what is supposed to come together. I think the focus ought to be brought to where the two things happening in each of the partners becomes irrelevant as something new, an entirely different experience, is created for both of them.

The Bible makes this distinction explicit. The most frequent Hebrew phrase for sex is, literally, “he went into her” (wayyabo eleha). Translations often soften this for modern ears, saying he “made love to her” or they “slept together.” But the Bible is less prudish than we are, using more graphic language to describe what happens in the honeymoon tent.

I’ve never heard that this is the most frequent Hebrew phrase for sex, but I’ve not really paid much attention or given much thought to it.

One Sunday morning, I learned how graphic this language can be. My friend Karen was publicly reading Scripture for our church service, and we’d recently switched to a more literal Bible translation. We were in Genesis 29, where Jacob marries Leah and Rachel, and the phrase wayyabo eleha shows up (we discovered) a lot! Karen has, you might say, a “Rated-G” personality: very prim, proper, and polite. We all saw her cheeks turn bright red, with a lot of awkward pauses, as she had to continually read the phrase “and Jacob went into her” over and over again. After that Sunday, we went back to a less wooden translation and laughed a lot with poor Karen.

I’m back in junior high wondering if he meant to use the word wooden there. If he didn’t it’s kind of funny that he did. I also feel like the name “Karen” just sticks out negatively now no matter who it is.

The Hebrew language is onto something, however: there’s a distinction between the male and female roles in sexual union. Each brings something unique to the fusing of two bodies as one, and this distinction is iconic. On that honeymoon in Cabo, the groom goes into his bride. He is not only with his beloved but within his beloved. He enters the sanctuary of his spouse, where he pours out his deepest presence and bestows an offering, a gift, a sign of his pilgrimage, that has the potential to grow within her into new life.

I’m squirming because I really want this article to work for him. We’re getting to the parts where people started having problems, describing it as soft-core porn, an immature, male-centered view of sex, logically and theologically problematic, etc.

This is a picture of the gospel. Christ arrives in salvation to be not only with his church but within his church. Christ gives himself to his beloved with extravagant generosity, showering his love upon us and imparting his very presence within us. Christ penetrates his church with the generative seed of his Word and the life-giving presence of his Spirit, which takes root within her and grows to bring new life into the world.

The Bible says our bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit. In the Sacrament of Holy Communion, we take in Christ’s body and blood into our bodies. When we hear the Word of God preached and taught, we take in the Holy Word of God through our ears, which by the work of the Holy Spirit makes its way to our hearts. There the Word of God takes root and grows into faith in Christ.

Inversely, back in the wedding suite, the bride embraces her most intimate guest on the threshold of her dwelling place and welcomes him into the sanctuary of her very self. She gladly receives the warmth of his presence and accepts the sacrificial offering he bestows upon the altar within her Most Holy Place.

The most holy place is the heart God gave us, that he creates anew within us by the mighty power of his Spirit. From this heart flow springs of life.

Similarly, the church embraces Christ in salvation, celebrating his arrival with joy and delight. She has prepared and made herself ready, anticipating his advent in eager anticipation. She welcomes him into the most vulnerable place of her being, lavishing herself upon him with extravagant hospitality. She receives his generous gift within her—the seed of his Word and presence of his Spirit—partnering with him to bring children of God into the world.

Their union brings forth new creation.

I could write more, but it is now getting late. Lord, bless this man and the work he set out to do.

Yesterday we had our final exam for our Family Systems class. In the program so far, the in-person exams are the hardest things we’ve had to do, in my opinion. There have only been two of them like this. For this one we were given a family case study including the problems being experienced by a seven member family. Then we had two and a half hours to answer ten questions, write out a care plan, and draw a genogram.

I have a short essay to write for tomorrow for my other class and then we are on spring break for a while. This semester long class is called Understanding the Stone-Campbell Movement: My Heritage. The Stone-Campbell Movement is also known as the Restoration Movement. It’s about the history of the group of churches that are presently known as Churches of Christ, Disciples of Christ, or Christian Churches of Christ.

I’ve literally never heard of any of these people or any of this history. I sometimes wish I had all day long to do nothing but read about obscure histories like this. This evening we are getting together with my in-laws to celebrate the two boys latest birthdays. The boys chose IHOP. The big kids have a track meeting, so they’re supposed to go to that and then meet us at the restaurant. Baseball practice starts today for the spring.

All these moving parts do stress me out at times. It’s not like a lose my cool type of stress. Those days are pretty much over and are over. It’s more like a blank and bewildered staring into space where I get an email from my daughter asking about going this place or that, and typing back “Yes, that’d be fine” like it’s the most normal thing in the world for my kids to all of a sudden be everywhere else except here in my presence.

This afternoon for lunch Dad and the boys and I ate at the CGC. There was an LWML group here for their quarterly district meeting. The cook invited us over which was nice. It was warm enough we could eat outside on the picnic table just outside the building. We had chicken soup, salad, fruit, rolls, and a blueberry dessert. The ladies were in and out, stopping to chat as they walked by. The cook gave us soup to take home.

It’s been one of those consistently cloudy winters. It happens every couple of years that instead of blue sky and single digits, you get more grey skies and temps in the 40’s and 30’s. Where most of my siblings had snow last week, we had rain. It rained again last night and a significant portion of the morning. For a brief time before school the rain did stop and the sun and sky could be seen.

This morning I went to Lowe’s to buy two more dehumidifiers. One for the upstairs, and one for the schoolroom, since that one is still trying to work in the boys’ room. The schoolroom was smelling the way it does when it rains, which happens if you leave the dehumidifier off for any extended period of time. My sister was on her way to mop up some of the flooding at her church.

Obviously this does getting me thinking about mold. We probably should’ve gotten a few extra dehumidifiers years ago. There are three spots in the basement that I know of that flood, but they only do so when there have been larger than usual amounts of rain within a short period of time. I picked the boys up from school (Dad was helping Uncle Glenn) and they helped me unload them.

For the past little over a year I’ve been serving as one of the members of our church’s spiritual nurture board. The summer before I had basically reached the point where I could no longer stand to be so disconnected from our church. I could not explain why church felt like such a painful place for me to be. Instead of feeling fed and connected, I felt isolated and lonely. There was like this never-ending hole in my heart that longed for something I’d surely known once before, but long ago.

Over the summer our DCE stepped down from her position in order to be home full-time with her son. Without a DCE it has fallen on our board to oversee/continue various things that the DCE once took care of. One of these things is the Sunday School program. I have written in the past about an exodus-like loss of people from our church not too long after we began attending there. We’d had a thriving Sunday School with five children’s classes plus a high school class. Each class had three teachers each that rotated every month.

I did not volunteer to be a Sunday School teacher. As a homeschool mom of five who was home with my kids throughout the week, I wanted a chance to be with other adults. Coming from a busy church prior to the one we’d just moved to, it felt incredible to be free from the responsibility of my husband being the head pastor. For a while we went to church together. I remember asking him one evening while standing in the garden. Could we go to the Saturday night service as a family, in the town north of us? So the kids could go to church with their dad, so I could feel what it was like to have him next to me again. I hadn’t realized that being married to a pastor meant going to church without him for the rest of your life.

I struggled and was at a loss even in the adult class. In church and then Bible class, the talking that went on mostly happened one way. I couldn’t understand why I never looked forward to church. This morning I felt slightly like I was looking forward to it. After church and Sunday School, a few of us from the board got together at Subway for lunch while the pastor did his catechism class from 12-1 before our meeting. After stepping down from the high school class once I got sick, I started teaching in the K-5th class. I did it because I felt obligated to fill one of the empty teaching spots.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wondered why it so often seems like its the moms who have to do this. Where are all of the old grey-haired women who’ve been teaching Sunday School for the past 50 years? They don’t exist, at least not in our church. I say this even as only two of the six Sunday School teachers currently have children in the program, so it isn’t always just the moms. Today as I sat next to my son during the Sunday School opening, I came to a place of accepting this “season”. I looked around at the extra parents who had joined us to be with their children. This is what we do. Catechizing our children, encouraging them in the faith, doing what we can to ensure the process happens is what Christian parents do.

Later tonight I cried thinking about it. Toward the end of our meeting, for a split second, I felt something different, something I had surely known once before, but long ago. It wasn’t isolation, or discouragement, or loneliness. It wasn’t guilt or frustration over last minute meeting planning or any other scathing vice. It wasn’t overwhelm at the ever-present desire to do the best that I can ever running side-by-side with the constant failure to do so. It wasn’t even the holy fire, the longing to image Christ in doing all things well. I wasn’t feeling, I wasn’t thinking, about anything having to do with me at all. I was there again. I felt whole.

“Don’t worry, mom.
In heaven your house will be spotless.”
~J.T.~

The schoolroom smelled like the septic tank had exploded and landed somewhere in the house. I checked the bathroom, and besides the clothes on the floor, nothing was terribly unusual in there. The next day I smelled it again but the bathroom still didn’t have any problems. When I continued into the big boys’ room I realized the smell was coming from there. I went upstairs and let them know, “Boys, your room needs some attention.”

Somewhere in all this somebody figured out that the outside corner of their bedroom carpet was damp. It’s done this before. It was late by now. Dad and the younger boys were still out at a hockey game for the church men’s night. The big kids had gotten home from bowling with camp friends. I also had just gotten home from meeting a friend for supper. We met at 5:30 and talked for over four hours until everyone else had gone home.

I told my son to put the dehumidifier in there. This morning Dad and the big kids left for an indoor track meet over by Decatur. The boys were given a choice. They could go to the meet and have to be there all day or stay home with me and be put to work. They decided to stay home. The four of us worked in the boys’ room moving stuff out of the boys room into the schoolroom. Again I was amazed by all the possessions we possess.

Something’s going to have to be done about the carpet. We soaked up what we could but the smell is too bad for anyone to currently sleep in there. Last night the boys slept out in the schoolroom, and after addressing what we could in the bedroom, we moved to the schoolroom to clean up there. It wasn’t too bad, but if one room was going to be torn up and messy, then I wasn’t going to have the makeshift bedroom also in disarray.

Dad kept me updated on how the track meet was going. We folded a few loads of laundry, started new ones, and cleaned the kitchen. They watched a show while I took a 1/2 hour nap. I’d planned to go out and finish birthday shopping for one of the boys’ birthdays tonight. I could’ve still done it, but Dad said he’d do it on the way home. I texted a list. I had all these homemaking thoughts I was going to share and process just now, but this works.

My Instagram ads have been a steady stream of wrinkle treatments and weight loss solutions. I know they aren’t just reading my mind. I did actually buy some kind of exercise and meal plan package that you had to sift through $300+ dollars of extra add-on’s to purchase. You take a quiz, and based on the answers, they determine what is best for you based on your hormone type. Based on body type and symptoms they labeled me a type A personality, which just isn’t true.

I had to go into the doctor last week. I’d called to renew an anxiety med prescription, something I’ve done mostly without problems for the past two years. They said it’d been too long since I’d had a regular physical. I told them I try to only go the doctor if I’m having a problem, as most regular doctors visits are something we pay out of pocket and can range anywhere from $400-$600 a piece depending on how much time your appointment takes. She said the doctor could work with me.

He did. While I was there I asked him about weight gain. Besides being pregnant, this is the highest it’s ever been. I did Whole30 last month. I’ve been trying to walk more. Nothing. One of his side-specialties is bariatric health care, so he said the only thing he’s going to tell me is “diet & exercise”. But also, from a medical perspective, numbers-wise, everything looks fine. Appearances aside, he’s not getting into all that, it’s possible that what it is now is actually better than it was before.

I need a scan of my uterus, my colon, something. Something to show me what is happening in there. All these times I’ve come to you, when you keep telling me I’m fine. And now you’re going to tell me it’s fine again. I’ve heard stories of this. Women repeatedly diagnosed with anxiety when it was actually something else. But I don’t have energy to fight anymore. I don’t have the stamina to keep searching for answers, to keep going to doctors looking for help with whatever’s been wrong.

These stream-of-consciousness posts occasionally get on my nerves. I get tired of the magical thinking and imposing meaning on experiences. One of the girls used to ask me, “But what’s your point?” Well, I don’t know. Most of the time I write because I don’t know what I’m thinking. I think this experience popped out for me because it was the first time in these past two years this core belief has been challenged, when he proposed I’m actually now in better shape.

Dad’s train came in around 10:30 last night. I took a nap around 9:30 before it was time to pick him up. I was in our room working on the latest paper due tomorrow. My brother was here this weekend with his friends and their families. They spent some time on Saturday putting taps in the maple trees. We seem to always come in on the tail end of the season, but the trees should still have at least another week, maybe two, of sap flow.

We all went together. The kids passed the time by watching a movie. On the way to the train station they asked about stopping somewhere to get ice cream. Ice cream places aren’t open that late, but otherwise I’m sure we would have probably stopped to buy some. The way to the station looks different in the dark, and one of the kids had my maps app pulled up to give me directions. He called right as we were pulling into the station.

I unlocked the back car door. He loaded up his bags as the kids shuffled around to make room for their father. He made his way to the passenger seat and sat down. I didn’t look at him. I held onto to the steering wheel while I stared straight ahead. You have to get to know a person again after a week. You have to trust them again that they’re still the same person, that they haven’t changed or forgotten you while they were away. He hadn’t.

The older kids had another dance this evening. I told my son he could invite up to fifteen people over for supper. We did this once last year with about ten and it was a wonderful time. Tonight we had seven plus the rest of the kids. Our meal plans have been working well, though I haven’t followed one this week. I tend to revert back to old habits when my husband is away, especially when it comes to cooking, where I just live day to day.

I went back to the store this morning to get the rest of the food I would need for the meal. One of the other moms sent along rolls, a dessert, and lemonade, which was a big help. I said a prayer before the meal, which to me is one of the small and simple ways I can minister to others. Tonight we thanked the Lord for the gift of love and friendship, as well as for the love of God shown to us in Jesus on the cross. Each one is special.

Both times the night went fast and they were in and out before I knew it. I cried again when they left, momentarily overwhelmed by the changes of life and these passing moments. They were here and then they were gone, and I was beyond blessed to have been able to share in the joy. I drove my daughter to school, as the girls had made their own plans just to go and meet there. When I returned the boys had cleared the table.

“Stay with us, for it is toward evening and the day is now far spent.”
~Luke 24:29~

After taking the boys to school this morning I stopped by County Market to pick up some food items. I’d also gotten inspired to make Valentines Day fun for them. The store had a big display of flowers and chocolates and a few lone balloons. I found one with a happy gnome as the picture and picked that one. Near the Valentines gifts I also found some window clings that are like removable stickers you can put on the glass.

I came home, unloaded the bags, then sat down with a bowl from earlier to finish my breakfast. I heard a car pull up to the house and kind of sighed knowing I’d have to answer the door. Two men I didn’t know were on the other side of it. One of them asked if I was busy. I replied, “Uh, sort of?”, not knowing what they wanted. They were scouts from a Christian group board, looking for a place to hold their Walk to Emmaus retreats.

I’ve heard of these before, that they’re amazing and life-changing, but I didn’t know exactly what they were. I thought they needed a place to actually go on walks, to be in nature where people can be alone to commune with God. In that case they had absolutely come to the right place. I called my husband to confirm that he had indeed spoken with another Emmaus woman who was looking into prices. Their story was true.

We walked to the Christian Growth Center and then to the Retreat Center. I’m always a tad bit self-conscious about the buildings. We’re not a fancy place, and it’s been 40 something years since some of these buildings were built. I think they’re in need of updates, not out of absolute necessity, but because people expect nice places to stay in. When you’re used to camp it’s one thing, but when you’re not, it’s different.

I love giving tours. We stopped by the Indoor Chapel on the way down to the dining hall. We walked through the kitchen and I showed them the new building. We walked to the cabins and they checked the amount of outlets to see if they’d be able to accommodate multiple CPAP machines. I told them there was no running water in the cabins, and that the nearest bathroom for them during the night would be in the dining hall.

They didn’t need land but I showed it to them anyway, at least pointed in the general direction. Toward the river, toward the creek, across the dam there are even more acres to walk on. One asked about the deer, the fishing, and the mushrooms. We have all of that here. They don’t get much free time on these retreats, and the people who come to them are often older. There would be 60-80 people to house including kitchen staff.

There were several other camps that were also being looked at. In March everybody presents their findings to the board. One man had been a missionary in Africa with his wife. I asked if he liked it and said that he loved it. I’ve never been on an overseas mission trip, I said, but have always wanted to go on one. He said I should do it, that it would change my life, and I should bring my kids along with me. It’d be expensive but worth it.

I came home and they left. If we never see them again, even still I’d been blessed. I put away the rest of the food and sprinkled the table with Valentine’s day candy. During supper one of the boys brought out a gift from Dad that he’d left behind. I was completely surprised. It was a journal, on which were written the words Faith, Hope, and Love, along with a set of colored gel pens and a card, which to me, it was perfect.

It’s been a full and busy weekend of visits and travels. My sister came down with her four girls, along with my cousin’s daughter who was visiting from Florida. My sister had called me several weeks ago wondering if it’d be okay if they came down. She was trying to think of things for them all to do and thought coming down to camp would be a good experience. Of course I agreed.

Jupiter and Venus were bright in the sky as they moved in. You can usually always tell if there’s a planet overhead, but I can currently only tell you what planet it is after I first look it up on my SkyView app. I have a Classical Astronomy textbook and Field Guide Study Journal that would teach me how to do it, but I haven’t gotten to them yet. I hope to, but don’t know if I ever will.

Saturday morning we dropped Dad off at the train station. He’s currently on his way to the western edge of Montana. Every year in February he goes away for these camp trips. While I yearly have to wrestle through him going away on trips without me, I do want him to have a good time. The pictures I have seen make the northern part of the country look like it’s own remote snow planet.

This morning I left church early to join my parents for a car ride. We traveled up to Lexington for the visitation of a church family friend. God always provided families for ours during various parts of our lives and this was one of those families. I also saw the parents of one of my high school best friends and talked to them for a little while. It’s amazing to me how love travels through time.

My parents dropped me back off at the then empty church parking lot. We’d driven two cars this morning so the kids could drive over to meet Grandma and Papa after church. The big kids had a basketball game to go to this afternoon, and super bowl parties this evening in town. I visited with my in-laws, then came home with the boys. We enjoyed our meal of popcorn for supper.