As of today, Marci and I have been married for nine years.  Crazy, huh?  May 30, 1998 was a special day that changed our lives forever.

We watched the video of our wedding ceremony this evening, together with our kids (talk about a surreal experience!).  Truly, it's amazing to see how much has changed in the time since then.  My Dad still had a moustache back then.  My little brother (who's now a freshman at the Ohio State University) was a ten-year-old pipsqueak.  My friend and peer Jason (who was, at the time, a sophomore at Bowling Green State University) looked just slightly older!  And me, well... as much as I hate to admit it -- it's sadly obvious that the hair was thicker, the face was thinner, and clearly I've aged in the last decade.

But rather than look back wistfully, I have to say that I'm glad for where I'm at in life right now.  The last nine years have been an amazing journey, and I've been glad for the chance to figure life out together with Marci...

[This is part five of a series on Sexuality and Spirituality:  bypassing Christian rhetoric and examining the interaction between sexuality and spirituality with candor, honesty, and directness.  Tough questions are encouraged, controversy is invited, and the submission of differing opinions is welcomed -- so please feel free to comment as often as you'd like.]

He confides cautiously.  And I listen carefully.  Because he is a dear friend.  Still, it's hard for me to hear what he's saying.  No doubt it's hard for him to say what he's saying.  It's hard because we both realize that the road ahead is fraught with peril and pain.

He's telling me that he's gay.  And though I have no doubt that he's thought it through, extensively -- I can't help but notice that his tone (even now, in our conversation) is an unusual paradox of pride and shame, determination and insecurity, hope and despair, relief and dread... Of course, I suppose this is the way it goes for any of us -- shining the floodlights into the dark corners of our consciousness, turning closets into showrooms.  But this particular pronouncement seems to rest upon a thousand tentativities relating to the underlying questions and assumptions of our lives... Consequently, I can't completely tell if he's making a statement or asking a question.  I suppose he may not be able to determine this either -- but I have to at least give him credit for doing the best he can with the information he has at his disposal.

He's telling me that he's gay.  And I can't say that I'm completely surprised.  I've never known him to have a girlfriend.  He fits many of the pop culture stereotypes:  snappy dresser, theater-lover, physically demonstrative, emotionally expressive... Ever since he was a little boy, he says, he's felt different from other boys -- which is, apparently, another sign that he's gay...

Except here's where I really start to wonder:  Is he really all that different?  Are his experiences of alienation and identity-quest all that unique?  Or is the whole world turning itself inside out with these questions?  I wonder...

 *     *     *     *     *

A significant part of my job over the last decade has been simply building relationships -- digging deep into the hearts and minds of young men desiring to know God and be used by Him in the world.  So over the years, as I've built a foundation of trust and respect with young men from all walks of life -- from both sides of the Atlantic Ocean -- as I've built into their lives and learned what makes them tick... I've been astonished to discover just how widespread are the doubts that today's young men have about their sexuality.  The "conversation" narrative above is actually a composite of several different conversations that I've had over the last several years.  Actually multiple conversations with numerous men.  Seriously, I would guess that approximately half of the men that I talk with have had serious doubts about their sexuality at one time or another.  Not that they've all experimented or experienced any sort of actual homosexual relationship with another man.  But they've certainly thought about it.  Wondered about it.  And yes, sometimes even given it a try...

Yet I can't even imagine the spokesman of the International Lesbian and Gay Association daring to theorize that half the population in the world today is biologically programmed for homosexual behavior.  It flies in the face of historical precedent.  It flies in the face of reproductive science.  It flies in the face of the embarrassingly obvious functional designs for the anatomical structures that define men and women!  And though I realize that even the gay community itself is divided about the underlying causes for homosexual behavior, I still have to wonder what exactly it means that the social trends relating to homosexuality have come as far as they have in the last few decades.

Indeed, the rise in the practice and acceptance of homosexuality is an intriguing sociological trend.  I must confess that I'm not extremely well-read on the scientific literature... But I've done a lot of thinking about the trends on my own, and I've developed some of my own theories for this relatively recent rise in favorable public opinion toward homosexual behavior.  And if you ask me, I think that the current state of sexuality in the West can be traced back to the Second World War ("it's all the fault of them dang Nazis!").  It sounds crazy, doesn't it?  But think about this:  Couldn't it be that the dramatic heroism and massive casualties of 1930s and early 1940s led to the internal traumatization, social imbalance, and reevaluation of masculinity in the late 1940s and 1950s... which in turn led to a sort of modern machoism and an abuse of masculinity... which in turn led to an oppressed and mishandled generation of women and children... which in turn led to the "Women's Liberation" movement of the late 1960s and early 1970s... which in turn led to a loss of identity for the upcoming generation of men... which in turn led to the rise in masculine promiscuity as the mark of machoism and manhood in the 1970s... which in turn led to women eventually following suit, combatting the double-standard of acceptable sexual behavior... which in turn led to the over-sexed and under-connected culture of the 1980s... which in turn led to a generation of people repulsed by the after-effects of the sexual revolution and uninterested in the hollow promises of "free love"... which in turn led to the children of the 1990s seeking real relationships and belonging instead... which in turn led to an exploration of alternative forms of relational expression... which in turn led to the embrace of homosexuality and a general "Accept Me" culture... which, of course, brings us to where we are today.

Ultimately, in providing the above analysis, I'm insinuating is that homosexuality is not the result of healthy biological development -- nor is it a healthy sociological development.  In fact, I believe that our culture's move toward acceptance of homosexuality is the result of a pendulant pattern of brokenness.  Even so, these issues are very difficult to discuss on the level of principle and Biblical precedent.

The truth of the matter is that there is no verse in the Bible that directly states that "homosexuality is a sin."  Furthermore, I believe that the Bible quite clearly states that some people are really just not designed to be attracted to the opposite sex...

But now that I've stirred things up a little bit, I'll let them stew for awhile... and I'll save my response to these issues for part six of this series.

[This is part four of a series on Sexuality and Spirituality:  bypassing Christian rhetoric and examining the interaction between sexuality and spirituality with candor, honesty, and directness.  Tough questions are encouraged, controversy is invited, and the submission of differing opinions is welcomed -- so please feel free to comment as often as you'd like.]

So what exactly is God’s plan for sexuality?

This is the real question, isn't it?  I mean, we can be easily distracted and drawn down rabbit trails -- debating the various possibilities for what God's plan does not include.  And it seems to me that Christians spend a lot of their time and energy coming at this subject from the negative perspective.  However, it seems that we might do better to start from a positive standpoint.  That is, if we understand that sexuality is something meaningful and good and powerful... and if we understand that God (spirituality) is meaningful and good and powerful... then it only stands to reason that we'd want to figure out how the two are supposed to fit together.  Thus we must ask ourselves, if you will, what are our good God's bluprints for good sex?

I will be very concise and very direct about my conviction on this subject:  Sex is designed for one man and one woman, meaningfully committed to each other in a marriage relationship.

OK.  Now I've said it.  I can't make it much more black-and-white than that...  So -- are you still reading?  Or has the wall just come up?  Seriously -- do you feel that I'm being anachronistic and/or hypocritical and/or judgmental and/or idealistic?  Do you jump to the conclusion that I'm being "too conservative" and/or "too American" and/or "too self-righteous"?  Actually, I'm guessing that a lot of people (including readers of this blog) would (either consciously or subconsciously) object to such a "narrow" allowance for the combination of sexuality and spirituality.  And personally, I would agree that defining things in this way can be very tricky in our world today.  But for the record, I don't feel that we necessarily have to go the route of Constitutional amendments or coordinated law enforcement to change the last half-century of social trends.  I don't advocate discrimination, or hate crimes, or cold shoulders toward people who chose to live by different convictions.  And I don't have some pie-in-the-sky notion that we'll be able to "fix" our world's take on sexuality and spirituality.

But I don't think I can back down from unapologetically defining God's plan for sex.  From the very beginning of time, the afore-mentioned "blueprint" for sexuality and spirituality was made clear.  Man and woman were designed to complete one another, to be physically and spiritually united with one another for life, and to enjoy freedom from shame as sexual beings created for the mutual enjoyment of one another.

Later on, in the time of Jesus, God's plan for sexuality and spirituality was reinforced and amplified.  Jesus himself said that a husband and wife were made to be united for life -- emotionally, socially, economically, and physically -- because in marriage "they are no longer two but one."  Furthermore, we are charged to "let no one split apart what God has joined together."

Other sections of the New Testament talk about how God seriously cares about the way that we use our bodies -- particularly as it relates to sexuality -- and how the institution of marriage is meant to be honored.  Without question, the Bible makes it clear that there are simply no provisions for sex outside of the covenant of marriage.  Old Testament Law demanded the public execution of any sex offenders!  And although the message of the New Testament leaves some room for less than ideal marriage situations -- it's stil crystal clear that even the less-than-ideal solutions are within the confines of the marriage relationship.  Now, I know there are popular arguments out there for "non-traditional" means of "marriage."  Still, from my vantage point, questions along the lines of "What is marriage anyway?  Shouldn’t it be more about the heart than about the legal certificates?  I mean, who married Adam and Eve?  Why is it so important to have an actual ceremony to say what’s in your heart?" basically bypass the issue.  Instead of coming at the topic of marriage from a cynical standpoint, I would ask "Why would a couple choose to not be married in our culture today?"  It's a commitment -- speaking loudly in a world afraid of commitment.  It's a cultural statement -- taking a stand in a society that's increasingly aligned in the opposite direction.  And it's the way God intended it to be.

"But seriously," someone might ask, "isn’t it just a cultural thing?  Didn’t people also previously use the Bible to defend racism and slavery and oppression of women?"  Well... unfortunately, I can't deny that Scripture has been frequently abused throughout the course of history... And I'm not foolish enough to claim that my interpretation of the Bible is absolute and infallible... But looking through the references which I alluded to above (which I encourage you to study out for yourself), it's hard to draw any other reasonable conclusions about God's design for sex.  As imperfect and impossible as the institution of marriage may sometimes seem, I truly believe that marriage between one man and one woman is God's set of boundaries for sex -- like the rock-ringed fire-pit to contain the fire for a troop of boy scouts' usefulness and enjoyment... like the sidelines on the sports field to keep the game manageable and fair... like the rules of the road that maintain safety and protocol for daily transportation... like any other series of analogies that one might develop to make this point.  Sex is designed to be enjoyed by one man and one woman, meaningfully committed to one another in a marriage relationship.

Even so, it's significant to note that not everyone is intended for marriage!

In spite of the lies that our culture perpetuates, the Bible is clear that celibacy and singleness are to be celebrated!  Jesus himself said (and modeled) that it's actually better not to be married.  Unfortunately, our culture -- our cult of the god Eros -- does everything in its power to negate this message and insinuate that something is wrong with anyone who might actually dare to live a life free from the constraints of marriage and sexuality... But this is a discussion for another post... Please keep the dialogue going (if you've managed to read this far) -- and please stay tuned for the conclusion of this series.

Please pause with me for a moment of silence...

*     *     *     *     *

I'm sorry to report that a dear friend has died.

My steady steed, my immutible mount, my trusty transport over the last three years -- yes, good old "Cleveland Brown" has gone to that great Rust Belt in the sky, as of about two o'clock this afternoon.  Naturally, at this point I just want to remember the good times... nevermind the times when the old two-wheeler's persona shifted toward the Dark Side (earning him the occasional moniker Darth Brown)... For the most part, through multiple cycles of getting beat up and then getting built back up again, Cleveland Brown had been a tried and true traveling companion -- traversing thousands of kilometers over concrete, asphalt, cobblestones, grass, dirt, mud, ice, and snow in every corner of Amsterdam throughout the majority of my time living here.  But now, I'm sorry to say, he is no more.

The short story is that he cracked -- right through the frame... It wasn't any kind of dramatic accident that brought about the end (at least not as far as I'm aware).  It was just a creaking sound up around the handlebars that kept getting louder and louder until it could not be ignored any longer.  Taking the bicycle into the neighborhood bicycle shop this afternoon, it took the guy about sixteen seconds to spot the fissure in the front-end of the frame... And unfortunately, such a crack is the kind of damage from which it's basically impossible to be restored.  If I were to have kept riding Cleveland Brown until the crack became complete, I would have found myself in a nasty head-first accident somehow, someday, somewhere out in the city.  As you can imagine, such a scenario would not have been a pretty one.  Thus, this is basically why Cleveland Brown met his demise today.

Now I'm faced with the prospect of starting all over again.

Since an Amsterdammer can scarcely go a day without a bicycle -- and since I've really come to know and trust our neighborhood bicycle shop --  I went ahead and ponied up for a "new" second-hand bicycle right then and there:  a medium-gray framed specimen with new wheels, new chain, and new lighting kit... I'm not sure of the make, but the word "Ricardo" is emblazoned on the rear vertical shaft.  And even though it's hard to say at this point, I feel like there is much hope and promise for the future...

I just have to come up with a name for the new ride.

For the longest time, I have had a peculiar habit of naming my vehicles. I've actually done so ever since I first learned to drive... In those early days, it was a Subaru station wagon presumably manufactured sometime in the early 1980s -- and being the Star Wars era that it was, our family mimicked the name of one of the film series' main characters in christening the family car "Obi-Two Subaru."  When Obi-Two died a couple of months after I acquired my driver's license, I found myself the proud owner of my "own" car: a bright red 1985 Chevrolet Chevette that was shortly dubbed "the Cherry Bomb." From the summer following my sixteenth birthday all the way up until the last summer that I lived in America -- encompassing the majority of my high school years, the entirety of my university experience, and my first years of marriage and ministry -- the Cherry Bomb was a faithful and true (if not always the most chic or elegant) traveling companion.  And of course, there were other vehicles throughout the years in America -- even concurrent to the good ol' Cherry Bomb: Marci's Chrysler LeBaron that became known by the French title "Noir Desir" ("Black Wish")... Our 1992 Toyota Camry, "the Sopwith Camel"... Even my red bicycle unimaginitively referred to by its obscure manufacturing moniker "Dynasty" -- or "the Nasty" for short... I named them all.  Still, when I made the move to Europe in 2003 -- to live in the city of Amsterdam, where I knew I would be depending almost entirely on public transportation, walking, and bicycling -- I wasn't so sure that my vehicular naming habit would be able continue...

I shouldn't have doubted.  When I first moved to Amsterdam, I found myself the proud owner of a sleek Batavus three-speed that I dubbed "Maher-shalal-hash-baz" -- based on an obscure section of the Bible (Isaiah 8:1) in which the prophet Isaiah is instructed to name his son, "quick to the plunder, swift to the spoil."  After Maher-shalal-hash-baz was stolen, however, I downgraded to a junky green bicycle that I named "Niet Makkelijk" (Dutch for "Not Easy" -- refering to the song by Kermit the Frog and to the way that the bicycle itself rode).  Less than a year later, I settled on a more middle-of-the-road bicycle that became Cleveland (a.k.a. Darth) Brown.  He was named in homage to my home state's principal metropolis -- a reinvigorated Rust-Belt city (like the bike itself) and home to a football team whose name conveniently coincided with the paint job on the bicycle...

It's fun to think back on these treasured memories from the past.  Now that Cleveland Brown has joined the ranks of history, though, I must reinvent a new persona for a new bicycle.  As you've probably picked up from the other christenings of my transportation, I usually stay away from humanistic names (like "Johnny" or "Suzy")... And I often incorporate some element of the vehicle's color and/or make... But since acquiring my new old bicycle this afternoon, I have yet to be struck by any particular inspiration for a new name.

Does anyone have any suggestions?

[This is part three of a series on Sexuality and Spirituality:  bypassing Christian rhetoric and examining the interaction between sexuality and spirituality with candor, honesty, and directness.  Tough questions are encouraged, controversy is invited, and the submission of differing opinions is welcomed -- so please feel free to comment as often as you'd like.]

It seems that most Christians who raise objections to the increasing sexualization of our culture (including issues ranging from teenage pregnancy to gay marriage) do so on the basis of the Seventh Commandment ("thou shalt not commit adultery") and the Tenth Commandment ("thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife") of the Mosaic Law.  Of course, a focus on the Ten Commandments bypasses the fundamental issue that every human stands condemned under Mosaic Law... However -- if we're going to be talking about the Ten Commandments anyway (which many people will do, and which is not altogether inappropriate as the Law still serves a purpose in demonstrating God's heart toward various human behaviors) -- I think we would actually do better to focus on the First and Second Commandments instead...

You see, without the awareness of almost all the parties in the discussion, a large part of the ideological conflict surrounding sexuality and spirituality comes down to who or what is worshipped in our lives.  Is it God?  Or is it something else (an idol)?  Even though most people in our culture would not be able to articulate it in this way, it seems to me that the God of our culture is Eros.

Eros was the Greek God of lust, love, and intercourse.  Furthermore, Eros was one of four Greek verbs distinguishing various emotions that are roughly equivalent to different uses of the English word "Love."  As opposed to Phileos (φιλßα = friendship love), Agape (ἀγαπη = divine love), and Storge (στοργÞ = parental love) -- Eros (ἔρως) indicates passionate love, with sensual desire and longing... Romantic love, sexual love, the love of dating relationships and marriage.

And frankly, I can't think of any bigger idol in our culture today than Eros.

I don’t know exact figures, but it seems that the vast majority of films and television series today are centered around (or at least include a significant sub-plot of) some kind of love story (which is basically a form of Eros).  It's difficult to think of any popular songs on the radio that don't essentially function as worship songs for Eros.  I’ve heard that something like 80 percent of cyperspace has been developed and is being used for pornographic content (yet another form of Eros).  Popular psychologists suggest that people think about sex on a virtually constant basis (Freudian psychology will even tie issues that we would typically consider to be asexual back in with some kind of repressed sexual desire).  Eros is everywhere.

It's interesting to note that our idolatry of Eros assumes different forms in different people.  For men, the obsession is more typically related to sex and lust.  For women, the obsession is more typically related to romance and relationships.  But in any event, it all comes back to the questions of:  Who or what do we trust to bring us salvation?  Rescue?  Hope?  Meaning?  Significance?  Identity?  Belonging?  Acceptance?  If we’re having a bad day, what is the drug that helps us cope (fantasy, masturbation, boyfriends/girlfriends, romantic comedies)?

And herein lies the tension in our culture between sexuality and spirituality.  Even though they were created by God for our good—love and sexuality have become distorted and elevated above their Creator!  This phenomenon of idolatry seems to be well-described in the Bible.  Romans 1:19-27, and 32, in particular, reads like a page out of this morning's newspaper; it's astonishing, really, to realize how accurately this section of the ancient Christian scriptures describes today's idolatry of Eros.

Thus, in a good way (I guess), a lot of the conversation among Christians about sexuality is meant to deal with this blatantly obvious idol in our culture.  Nevertheless, Christians also seem to often overdo it, in their attempts to point out the idol in our culture.  It seems that perhaps we’ve come too far (though, admittedly, a good balance is very difficult to achieve).  Today, sexual sin is made out to be bigger or worse than other sin (like lying or gossip).  Furthermore, we often fail to separate the sin (the behavior) from the sinner (the person).  And because sexuality is so personal and so often tied up in a sense of identity, arguments about the issues surrounding sexuality and spirituality can become quickly elevated and emotional.  Disagreements about viewpoints can feel like personal attacks and harsh, judgmental attitudes.  And unfortunately, Christians don’t often do much to diffuse this tension...

But we're getting ahead of ourselves.  In the continuation of this series, we'll examine more of the particular issues up close.  But for now, let's just leave it at this.  Take a look at the world around you -- and take a look at your own life... Do you see the influence of Eros?  Can you smell the burnt offerings smoldering on the embers of a thousand altars in our society?  And can you confirm that we've got a problem?

[This is part two of a series on Sexuality and Spirituality:  bypassing Christian rhetoric and examining the interaction between sexuality and spirituality with candor, honesty, and directness.  Tough questions are encouraged, controversy is invited, and the submission of differing opinions is welcomed -- so please feel free to comment as often as you'd like.]

Think with me for a moment about hot, passionate, meaningful, romantic, mind-blowing, sensual... and biblical... sex.  Perhaps that sounds like a bit of a paradox to you.  Most people think that the Bible -- like so many Christians -- is afraid to talk about sex.  Or perhaps they think that if sex is mentioned in the Bible, it's only brought up in a condemnatory, judgmental, legalistic way...

Actually, nothing could be further from the truth.

Consider, as a case in point, the words of Proverbs 5:18-19 -- which praise the satisfaction that comes from a woman's breasts, and which furthermore includes encouragement for lovers to "rejoice" and be "captivated" by each other's sexual love.  The first chapter of the Song of Songs (and, well, pretty much anywhere you look in the Song of Songs) reads more like a romance novel than what one would typically expect from a "religious text."  The metaphors from this section of the Bible are surprisingly graphic, and one definitely gets the sense that sex is something to be celebrated -- whether it be in the bed chambers... or at the dining room table... or in the green, green grass beneath a canopy of trees in the forest!  The third chapter of Ruth describes the way that a couple of the ancestors of Jesus Christ hooked up -- with a story of subtle seduction, involving a midnight meeting at the bed of a single man who becomes obviously aroused by the sense of invitation from a single woman… If you understand the context, it’s a pretty racy scene—and yet it’s also indicated as a story of righteousness and godliness!  And if that wasn't enough, 1 Corinthians 7:3-5 implies that something is seriously wrong if a married couple is not enjoying regular sexual interaction; in fact, to go without sex is to be "deprived," according to the words of the Apostle Paul.

Make no mistake about it—God created man and woman and designed sexuality as an integral part of their being.  Sex was (and is) God’s idea!  Consider the way a penis is designed and the way that a vagina is designed [just imagine all the search engine hits that this post is going to get on my "Amsterdam" blog now that I've included the words "breasts" and "penis" and "vagina" and "sex" all on the same page!]... One doesn't have to have a doctorate in anatomy to figure out the genius in the structure of our sexual organs.  Sex is supposed to be fun and enjoyable and meaningful and healthy…

So what happened?  How did we get from this full and fun picture of biblical sexuality to our modern-day misconceptions of Puritanical pragmatism?  How exactly did sexuality become so far removed from the rest of God and His people?  How has the idea developed that Christians are asexual repressed zombies?

We'll tackle these questions in my next post....

These days are a flurry of activity, as an event called Serve the City is dominating the time and attention of a couple hundred volunteers -- including me and my family -- on 31 different service projects throughout Amsterdam.

I thought you might be interested to read a post that I wrote today for a site called "Serve the City Stories".  More stories should be showing up on this site over the coming couple of days, as well.

My role in the Serve the City activities is relatively minor -- but I think it's cool that this event began as an initiative of Zolder50.  I'm proud of our church in the heart of Amsterdam.

When I mentally combine the words “Christian” and “Sex” -- if I'm being perfectly honest -- my gut-reaction, first-instinct, word-association comes back with just one word:  "Puritans."

Seriously.  And quite literally as well.  I think of people wearing all-black clothing with large square brass belt buckles and funny 17th Century hats, speaking King James English and viewing sexuality with disdain and disgust.  In my mind, I envision a conversation between a "Christian" husband and wife in which the man says something like, "Good wife, I know full well that it is a crude and vile business -- but dost thou not think it necessary for the well-being of our colony and for the fulfillment of our duty before the Almighty Lord that we participate in our reproductive responsibilities?  Let us then make all haste hither toward yonder chamber to dispense with the practice of our marital obligations -- so that we may complete the temporal transaction at hand and press forward in all good faith onto the most excellent duties of church and society with which we have been entrusted..."

It's a little bit overblown, I know, but don't you see where I'm coming from?  As much as I may realize the other (more positive) aspects of "Christian Sex" on the intellectual level, my natural emotionally- and socially-conditioned response is to think words like Prude... Joy-kill… Backwards... Outdated… Judgmental... Cold... Accusatory... Hypocritical... Scandalous... And I don't think I'm reaching too far here to suggest that the majority of Western culture would be quick to make these associations as well.

And at any rate, I think it would be pretty safe to say that the above kind of word-association exercise would not typically result in thoughts like:  Hot... Passionate... Meaningful... Romantic... Mind-blowing... Sensual... and so on -- though these words would most readily be supplied to any normal word-association for the word "Sex"... just as long as you drop the "Christian" modifier.

However, I believe that this phenomenon -- this cultural separation between sexuality and spirituality -- is not right.  And after considering the subject for months and months, recently, I've decided to tackle the subject in a series of blog posts.  And rather than simply spouting Christian rhetoric or resorting to pithy pastoral phraseology -- I want to try approach the interaction between sexuality and spirituality with a sense of candor, honesty, and directness.  I want to really engage with the tough questions, invite controversy, and welcome the submission of differing opinions (feel free to comment as often as you'd like).  And still, I want to come away with a solid, Biblical sense of understanding about the issues surrounding the combination of sexuality and spirituality.  In particular, I want to deal with questions such as:

How exactly has the idea developed that Christians are asexual zombies and/or sexually-repressed whackos?

Are the cultural battles about sexuality and spirituality really worth fighting?

What does God really think about sex outside of marriage? (including follow-up questions such as, "But isn’t it just a cultural thing?" and "What is marriage anyway?  Shouldn’t it be more about the heart than about the legal certificates?  Who married Adam and Eve?  Why is it so important to have an actual ceremony to say what’s in your heart?")

What does God really think about homosexuality?

Don't we need to update our 21st Century understanding for sexuality and spirituality (that is to say, "Didn’t people also previously use the Bible to defend racism and slavery and oppression of women?")

So if these questions and this topic sound interesting to you, please keep checking back in for updates and follow-up dialogue.  As I said, I've been thinking about this for quite some time -- so I'm really looking forward to an outlet for refining my thoughts!  The Puritans may not have approved of such a frank discussion of such a subject... but I think I'm ready to move past the Puritans anyway.

So I've got a question for you.  I'm preparing for a group discussion about spirituality and sexuality (which may also eventually turn into a blog series), so I'm curious to get a broad cross-sections of opinions regarding the question:

What do you think of when you combine the words "Christian" and "Sex"?

I encourage complete honesty in your response.  And I'm not asking for an intellectual answer but a "gut-reaction" answer -- almost like an exercise in word association.  I hope that the responses to this question could be entertaining as well as informative.  So please, if you're up for it, take a minute and let me know what you think.

Let's just say that our relationship has been tempestuous.  Fun and friendly at times -- cruel and caustic at other times... Mostly, I'm content to leave her alone -- which, of course, doesn't actually seem to bother her all that much.  But then (I'm ashamed to admit this), there are times when I feel that I simply need her:  that siren song of Scandinavia, with her golden hair and deep blue eyes, with her inviting embrance and Swedish sense of style... And one way or another, I always seem to find myself coming back to Ikea.

I can't live with her; I can't live without her.  I hate to love her; I love to hate her... Surely you know the story -- and surely you know how the story ends -- with me chewed up and spit back out on the other side of sweet Ikea's embrace... with me crying in a heap and singing sad songs of paradise lost... with me vowing never to come crawling back again... but with me knowing full well that Ikea is simply a part of my life now... and, perhaps, for ever more.

As you may have guessed by now, I had my latest run-in with Ikea this weekend.

In the beginning, getting back together with Ikea was surprisingly free and easy.  Of course, it took a bit of courage for me to engage in the first place (so many memories of the heartache and frustration getting in the way) -- but after that initial threshhold had been crossed, things went remarkably smoothly.  In fact, I don't know if I can ever remember another time when I was able to so quickly and efficiently make it out to that part of town and get down to business.  Within the space of two and a half hours, we had successfully picked out and purchased two beds, a dresser, and a desk; and we even had time for a absurdly inexpensive lunch of hot dogs, soft drinks, and ice cream cones (not only does Ikea have impeccable taste in home decorating, but in concessions as well!).  Arrival back home was earlier than expected, and the delivery with our furniture was completed by the middle of the afternoon -- so without even thinking about it, the mood was upbeat, and life was good.  We started assembling furniture with a song in our heart and the nimble agility of magic elves turning the hexagonal chucks into screws that brought life and dimension to the pressed wood compound panels.  Before even realizing it, we finished the desk.  We finished the shelves.  But then (wouldn't you know it), turning our attention to the Trömso loft/bed, the idyllic day with Ikea took a turn for the worst.

As it turns out, I had brought home the wrong bed.  So I ended up having to rent the Greenwheels car, drive back to the store for a refund/return of the bad bed, pick out the better bed, pay up, drive back, and find myself back at square one -- with the warm glow of my earlier feelings toward my fair lady in blue long since dissipated.  Finally, after perhaps twelve hours of frustration and effort (spread out over two days), everything was finished -- although I must confess that my feelings for Ikea had descended to a place of cold loathing and embitterment... until my son helped me to remember her beauty and glory.

In surveying the work of my hands (which, let's be honest, are not typically all that mechanically-inclined), the design and engineering ingenuity of good ol' Ikea masked my deficiencies to the point where my boy could proudly beam and gush:  "Daddy, you're a really, really, really, reeeeeeaaally good bed-maker!"  In that moment, my heart once again softened and I smiled:  "Thanks, Elliot."  And I realized that for moments such as this, I will always be indebted to the lovely lady in Blue.

I went to the FOAM this morning.  Museums have become my places to think and pray and journal... kind of the urban equivalent of the vast nature preserves and cornfields that I used to frequent for such purposes back in rural Ohio.  Amsterdam's musuems of photography -- the FOAM and the Huis Marseilles, in particular -- are some of my favorites.  The images from far-flung corners of the planet help me to attain a sense of escape from my day-to-day issues in Amsterdam -- while somehow still allowing me to simultaneously engage with bigger issues in the world.  Escape and engage.  Escape and engage.  It's a meaningful paradox and a healthy discipline.  Well-considered and well-executed photography helps to put me and God and others into perspective.  I feel a sense of my smallness.  And I feel compelled to repeat Jesus' prayer for God's Kingdom to come to earth, as it is in heaven.

Today I was particularly impacted by the photography of James Nachtwey.  The above image, taken in the Sudan during the famine of 1993, is a powerful example of his work.  The exhibit at the FOAM covers his eyewitness "Testimony" of global conflicts in Bosnia, Indonesia, Iraq, and Somalia -- among other locations.  I was especially gripped by the pictures from the famine in Africa and the orphanages in Romania from the early 1990s... Truly unforgettable...

In this same vein, there's an annual exhibition that's currently in Amsterdam called the World Press Photo Contest.  Every year, I look forward to the advent of this international photo-journalism exhibition, typically hosted in the massive chambers of the Oude Kerk.

If you have the opportunity, I would strongly recommend a visit to these exhibitions.

We've surpassed the half-way point in the pregnancy!  About a week and a half ago, we had our 20-week ultrasound -- and it was reassuring to hear that everything seems healthy with both mother and child.

Also, we learned that it's a boy!  It's interesting to note how strong the opinions can be about learning the sex of the baby ahead of time.  I can imagine that some people would be severely disappointed that we would "cheat" and find out this key piece of information before the actual birth... And on the other hand, I can imagine that a different set of people would be extremely frustrated and bothered if we were to "ignore the opportunity" presented to us by scientific technology and choose not to discover the sex of the baby ahead of time.  So interesting... As for us, we had already waited one time (we didn't know that Elliot was a boy until the delivery room of the hospital), and we had already used the ultrasound to learn the sex of the baby one time (learning 20 weeks after conception that Olivia was a girl).  So, I guess we just prefered the ability to emotionally and practically prepare ourselves ahead of time... thus we decided to ask the technician to take a look for us, if it was possible during the most recent ultrasound.

So I don't know about you -- as you're perfectly entitled to your opinion about finding out the sex of a baby ahead of time -- but I'm glad that we took advantage of the opportunity to find out.  On the one hand, I expected that we might be having a girl -- because the third child in both my family and in Marci's family were girls.  But on the other hand, I know that the Asp family seems to produce more boys than girls, at a ratio of 2:1 (figuring in at least four generations).  And even though, scientifically speaking, neither of these trends means a darn thing -- and even though I would have been equally happy with either a boy or a girl -- I must say that I like the ability to gear myself up for having another baby boy.  Without a doubt, I'm thrilled to be having another son! 

It's raining.  For the first time in weeks, our week has started with a gentle steady rain.  And in spite of what Karen Carpenter sings about rainy days and Mondays... I'm glad for the rain today.

It feels more like Amsterdam when it rains.  I've heard (albeit only from secondary news sources) that Holland has never experienced such an extended stretch of rainless days, at least not in the time period since they started keeping track of weather data.  The Netherlands is just one of those northern European cities that gains part of its identity from the low skies and ever-present threat of rain; yet the last time we had a rainy day like this was sometime around the third week of March.

So even though today's rain means sloppy commutes and dripping jackets and all that not-so-fun stuff, I guess you could say that my feelings about the rain this morning are kind of like someone going back to their dysfunctional family for a holiday reunion or something.  It's kind of like a homecoming.

I was just realizing that our church is almost half the size of what it was roughly one year ago.  From a weekly average of perhaps 225 (you could just as easily pick any number between 200 and 250), meeting in two separate worship gatherings, packing out a cozy attic space with enthusiastic worshippers... down to a weekly average of about 125, consolidated in one worship gathering, meeting in a drab multi-purpose room (in a basement, ironically).  It's safe to say that a lot has changed over the course of the last year.

And yet, I can't really think of a time when I've been more excited about  the health, well-being, vision, and direction of Zolder50.

Yesterday evening, we hosted a dinner party for the home group leaders in our church, with 20-25 people in attendance (and that's even with a few of the home group leaders not being able to make it!):  all young men and women -- the majority of whom are now Europeans -- who are taking ownership and leadership of the ministry in Amsterdam.  And believe it or not, for the most part they seem happy and healthy (not over-burdened), enthusiastic about where we are as a church and where we're going.  From a low point of just three home groups a couple of years ago, we're up to seven home groups -- with two of the groups looking to further multiply (for a total of nine home groups) in the not-too-distant future.  We're even talking about sending out our first church plant(s) before long!

Of course, the pattern for our Sunday worship gatherings can be a bit concerning.  However, when you consider that we had to change facilities seven months ago -- and as a result of the altered facilities, we had to cut back from two meeting times to just one (which also happened to be the afternoon one, which was always less populated than our evening service)... the drop-off is understandable.  And fortunately we still have new people visiting every week.  We still have non-believers being pleasantly surprised by a real community of people worshipping in spirit and in truth.  In fact, I believe a significant number of the people who have dropped away in the last year or so were actually those who came to Zolder50 as their second (or third) church service each week -- where they could passively soak in another teaching, bop along to some "cool" worship music, and enjoy the gezelligheid of so many young people who are so genuine and friendly and fun.  Thus, even though we could probably stand to restructure our Sunday worship gatherings a bit and make some adjustments to firm up some of the weaker areas of our ministry (particularly Sunday worship gatherings) -- which, encouragingly, we're already working on -- I'm not too concerned about the attendance figures for our Sunday worship gatherings, in light of all the circumstances.

More than anything, I'm just encouraged (on a personal level, as well as a ministry level) by groups like our home group leaders.  It's just fun to be around these people.  They feel like family, in a lot of ways.  Whether we're having serious discussions about the future of the church, or making pizzas together, or playing "Huuh!" together, or talking about the personal stuff in our lives -- I respect these people.  I respect their hearts for God, their hearts for people, their hearts for the city.  I appreciate their enthusiasm and creativity and wit and wisdom.  I love them.

I feel the same way about the growth and development of groups like our Servant Leadership Council and the Soul Gathering of our church.  I feel encouraged and uplifted.  And I'm grateful to God for his work in growing our church -- even if it means growing in a different manner from that which we typically envision.

"You can pray for me," he says.  "And maybe you can bring me some Christian books."  Other than that, though, it seems there's not a whole lot that he needs.

Frankly, I'm impressed by his humble attitude and positive outlook on his life and particularly on his present circumstances.  For three months now, he's been stuck on this boat, and I can't imagine that it would be all that pleasant of an experience.  There are occasional breaks in the monotony.  For instance, in the mornings, he can go outside for an hour.  At other times, he can go to the game room and play some chess.  On Tuesday afternoons and Thursday mornings, for a brief period of 50 minutes, he can receive visitors (mostly customers from back at the Natuurwinkel where he worked).  And even though he doesn't have so many people to call, he will sometimes join the few dozen others standing in line for a ten-minute turn in one of the two telephone booths -- just so he can be around other people doing something other than the ordinary.  Because at all other times, he is relegated to his five-square-meter room which he shares with three other men sharing his same plight.  They're fortunate enough to have a television -- so he sometimes enjoys that diversion.  But most of the time, he just likes to read.  And think.  And pray.

And wait.

For him, this whole waiting process began with a lack of proper lighting while riding his bicycle at night through the streets of Amsterdam.  He paid the fine for his infraction, like we all do -- yet his carelessness that night had a greater price as he ultimately found himself here, in prison.  And not just any prison, but the "Dententieboot" -- a barb-wired floating fortress on a forgotten wharf in western Rotterdam.  And in this Detentieboot, he must wait -- along with 419 others like him -- until who-knows-when.  As an illegal immigrant, he finds himself wanted by no one, welcomed in no land, simply waiting for the bureaucratic battle of "not me!" to run its course.  Some of the inmates -- like this friend that I'm visiting -- are hoping that the end of the process will put them back on Dutch soil.  Other inmates are ready (maybe even eager) to be deported and repatriated -- like his roommate from Burundi -- but even these men must wait.  Because they are strangers in a strange land, and they have to play by unspoken rules and unmitigated timelines.

The entire situation -- and its effect on my own heart and mind -- illuminate how much my views on immigration and border security have changed over the last few years.  Back when I lived in the United States of America, I was tucked up in the middle of a vast continent with relatively little exposure to "foreigners."  This, coupled at the time with a general sense of alignment with the more conservative end of the political spectrum left me mindful of all the ways that immigrants / migrants / illegal aliens took away jobs from other Americans, drove down wages and benefits, and increased the burden on the social system funded by average law-abiding taxpayers... To state it quite simply, I was opposed to immigration.

But then I became an immigrant.

Granted, an American living in the Netherlands with all the appropriate paperwork is in a considerably different situation than a Mexican in the United States or a Morroccan in Europe... Nevertheless, I've personally felt the sting of populist political policy in the growing waves of anti-immigration attitudes across Europe.  I have to pay exhorbitant fees to simply reside on Dutch soil.  I have to jump through hoops for knowledge of the language and general citizenship.  I have to live in fear of the "Rita Verdonk"s and "Geert Wilders"es of the world, while they enjoy the adoration and accumulation of votes from their Dutch constituencies.  I have to look past the haughty eyebrows of shopkeepers who hear my foreign accent.  And, yes, I have to feel the stares and hear the whispers of other parents at my children's school.  People around the world talk about the tolerance and open-minded attitudes of people in the Netherlands... but while their politics and ideology may be very liberal in comparison to most of the world, my experience is that people here are not always so tolerant of me as a person.  And that's probably what hurts the most.

To say the least, I've become a good deal more sympathetic to Mexicans and Middle-Easterners living in the United States.  I've become a good deal more understanding of people like my friend on the Detentieboot.  And even though I can still recognize the complexities of today's global economy and global society -- and I don't pretend to have any easy answers for the migration issues in the world today -- I can confidently say that we'd all do a lot better to put ourselves in the other person's shoes from time to time.