Sex and money: worth talkin' about

Lauren Winner, Real Sex

Too often the church, rather than giving unmarried Christians useful tools and t hick theologies to help us live chastely, instead tosses off a few bromides—“True love waits” is not that compelling when you’re twenty-nine and have been waiting, and wonder what, really, you’re waiting for.

Indeed, the instruction to just zip perhaps fails to recognize that one resists strong bodily urges like sexual desire not primarily through willpower, but through grace.

But if we see scripture not merely as a code of behavior but as a map of God’s reality, and if we take seriously the pastoral task of helping unmarried Christians live chastely, the church needs not merely to recite decontextualized Bible verses, but to ground our ethics in the faithful living of the fullness of the gospel.

Perhaps the revelatory thing for me about money is that I have the power. I could, work a couple hours and baby sit on Friday’s and use that money to donate to providing after-care for young women rescued from trafficking in Cebu.

What am I willing to go without so I can have more to give, to save, to spend if necessary?

Can I understand money? For most of my life—frankly, until now—I thought it was some esoteric entity comprehensible only by an elite few. Certainly not lower-middle-class moi. Money is mysterious in some ways, but still understandable.

I could buy x, or I could not buy x. Having the option to buy something was revelatory to me, almost as much as the option of not having to buy x.

Goliaths

So, in conjunction with my roommate Linell yesterday at the fortuitous location of our neighborhood Panera, I pretty much finished my 2010 taxes. E-filed California, and just need to paper-file fed taxes. It wasn't so bad, all things considered. Maybe taxes aren't the Leviathan I thought.

Now, on to my 2009 Canadian taxes!

Danice

Yesterday, at my neighborhood Stater Bros. store, I bought a 15 oz. box of Life Cereal. Which, of course, made me think of Danice. Danice was one of my four housemates in Vancouver, BC. Her mousy brown hair is short, with an amazing ability to array itself in a variety of styles. Danice loves Life cereal; her near-addiction to it rivaled only by my near-addiction to Nature Path’s Mesa Sunrise cereal, most often purchased for $5.99 at Dollar Grocers.

We lived on 1234 E. 7th Ave. in East Vancouver, in the Grandview-Woodlands neighborhood more commonly referred to as “The Drive,” referring to Commercial Drive, which runs north-south and is characterized by natural food shops, local coffee shops on every corner and a lot of hippie-or-hipster-types. Seventh Avenue was two streets south of the main street of Broadway Ave, and quiet; the street was home to the most perfect arching trees and to a Hungarian church just 3 doors east of our house. These arcing trees provided the visual aid and backdrop for a lovely evening walk with my friend Danielle one fall before I moved into this house, when we ended up talking about romance, unrequited love and how romance/relationships/marriage is but one arc under the grand arc of God’s redemptive narrative. These same trees met my gaze every morning from my triangular top floor window; it seemed a gift too extravagant that I could be living in a house on this street, of all streets.

Danice is not a fan of mornings. I learned this soon after I moved in and I sat down to breakfast. Danice emerged from her bedroom, adjacent to the kitchen, and prepared her edibles. I attempted to make some conversation with her, but didn’t quite succeed. Later, her longtime roommate Beth graciously informed me that it takes Danice some time to warm up to talking with people in the mornings, which I quickly noted.

One thing I always associate with Danice is her impassioned enthusiasm for almost anything. When Danice is excited about something, you know. Michael Jackson? Definitely. Dancing? For sure. Youth? No doubt about it.

Economy of Grace

In the economy of grace—
where roses form beds
she brought forth two children
the first, perfect
the second, less
when the Lord God breathed into their nostrils
they were created

her husband stopped breathing

she kept on living
smelled a rose
took a breath,
held out her hand
and walked with God
in the city.

Personal Calling vs. Vocation

A brief, yet excellent, explanation.

Sexual Harassment in Egypt: Disregard for Human Rights

"Why is sexual harassment in Egypt so rampant? There could be any number of reasons, but many point to disregard for human rights."

Sadly, makes sense...the former is a logical conclusion of the latter.

http://edition.cnn.com/2011/OPINION/02/16/rogers.egypt.sexual.harrassment/index.html?hpt=C1

Perhaps, perhaps

In frenzied grace, she carried this fragile hope that perhaps, perhaps...there just might be--another chance, another breath--