Getting to Know You

Matthew 1: 24-25.
"Then Joseph being raised from sleep did as the angel of the Lord had bidden him, and took unto him his wife: And knew her not till she had brought forth her firstborn son: and he called his name Jesus."

Elsewhere in the Bible, like in Luke 1: 34, the expression of "knowing" a man or woman is frequently used to connotate sexual intercourse. I was thinking about this in conjunction with C. S. Lewis' last published work before he died entitled, "We Have No Right To Happiness."

What a curious way to express the concept. To "know" someone. That the physical act of love (another interesting euphemism, that) would be equated with knowledge. And not just intellectual comprehension; a deep, intimate fathoming of another person, of being totally exposed before them, of giving yourself entirely to them and having them reciprocate. The way you know what the weather in New England is like in October because you've lived there for twenty years, or the way you know the wind on Amen Corner at the Masters swirls because you've won 2 green jackets, or the way you know the right moment to unfurl the sails in a gale because you've been seafaring since you were 10. Knowing as experiencing.

You might draw an analogy to languages. You can understand vocabulary and practice pronunciation, but you don't know the language until you're completely reliant upon it, you can only communicate through it, which only happens when you go someplace where they only speak it. How many people in modern times only speak their mates? How many people take the time to try to learn someone else to such an extent?

Not that sex is always going to be the culmination of an exhaustive study of another person; the verses I mentioned involved Joseph and Mary, who were mere teenagers when they were betrothed, probably by their parents. I doubt they had been developing a relationship for several years before this. So I'm not making the point that you have to fully understand your spouse before your consummation celebration. My sister's getting married in June, and she's only known the guy for a year or less. Same with another good friend on mine, who met an African once or twice in the summer before he moved into town, and married him by December.

No, my point is more directed toward the idea of sex itself, and how it has been treated with such disdain and vulgarity over the centuries. We would like to think that no period or people have ever been as depraved as the modern world is, but the truth is that we may just have more ability to share our depravity around than previous times. Sodom and Gomorrah was probably as bad as San Francisco, if not worse, and the ancient Greeks for all their enlightenment practiced pedophilia openly. There are, I am sure, many more examples through the annals of history. Sex is a favorite tool of Satan's to demean, distort, and destroy mankind.

There is a concept that I've noticed expressed in several ways that the capacity for evil is directly proportionate to the capacity for good. That is, the greater the man's abilities, the worse he has the potential to be. A man with little education is not nearly as dangerous and despicable as one who is well educated and still persists in wrongdoing. The blunt and obvious attack can be easily repelled; the subtle and intelligent strike may not be detected even after ruining its target. Iago from Shakespeare's Othello is a prime example of this. He never challenges Othello directly, never overtly attacks Desdemona's fidelity, but rather with cunning and reverse psychology coerces Othello to strangle his dearest love and to kill himself afterward. Isn't it the same with us? If a demon appeared before us holding a pornographic magazine or a needle of heroin and told us to indulge ourselves, we'd shudder and run from it immediately. But if a friend recommends a "good" movie that just happens to have some nudity in it, or offers a beer at a party, aren't we much more liable to stumble? It's not the same level, to be sure, but it's the first subtle push down the slippery slope that can lead to such destruction. A frontal assault we can see coming and repulse, recognizing it for what it is, but an ambush can destroy us as completely, and do so with greater suffering.

Sex is a good thing. I'm sure of it. But like everything else (and I mean, everything) the devil can twist it to his purposes, which aren't favorable for us. And the world now considers sex as little different from blowing your nose or eating a peach, a thing of no great consequence, noteworthy only in the unusual pleasure it gives and, like any other drug or pleasurable activity, to be sought after only for that pleasure. As Lewis discusses, the forgiveness and tolerance we give to behavior aimed at achieving sex would never be tolerated in any other circumstance.

It's a tired routine to trot out, but recall to your mind the Clinton scandal. The main problem that critics had with the affair wasn't that he committed adultery (that is, political critics; obviously moral and religious pundits decried such behavior), but rather that he lied about it. He committed perjury under oath, and to the American people. And what was the defenders' response? "It's only sex! Why are you prudes getting so riled up? Loosen up a little, man!" For Pete's sake, Clinton's alley cat behavior became a virtue of his by the time he left office! He was congratulated and praised for his exuberance! But if he had lied about a matter of foreign policy, national security, economic plans, or campaign indiscretions? Well, that we won't tolerate! I don't mean to start a political diatribe, but the point is that his pundits dismissed the crime by relegating it to being "only about sex", and that's no big deal. Such is the stature of sex in modern society.

That concept of knowing really appeals to me. I'm glad that I haven't had a serious temptation in that area, a girl who offered herself to me or a situation that easily could have gone there. I'd like to think I would have resisted without pause, but you can never be entirely certain how you will react. And the idea of sex being the culmination of meeting, learning, admiring, adoring, wooing, courting, learning about and marrying a woman, the capstone to one journey and the first step in another, is something I shall relish, more so than some empty experience that I'll only regret. For sex between husband and wife is not the end, but the beginning, the entryway into family, physical intimacy as well as emotional and spiritual intimacy, a process that ends only in death, whereupon all earthbound marriages will dissolve and the eternal Marriage will be consummated fully. In my earthly flesh it troubles me to think of God in such passionate terms; we're more comfortable imagining Him as our Father, Jesus as our Savior and Friend, the Holy Spirit as Counselor and Convictor. But His love, as much as we can imagine it, most closely resembles that between husband and wife, or at least that's what the Word says. And like the process leading up to earth marriages, our death is the end of separation, the grave opens up the chapel doors, and we walk down the streets paved with gold as aisles to the altar of God. Where we shall know, and be truly known.

The Wise Words of Susan

"And I remember what Susan said/ How Love is found in the things we've given up/ more than in the things that we have kept."

From Rich Mullins' song "What Susan Said," these words rang true to me in a moment of clarity. If love is demonstrated at its finest in sacrifice, that coincides with the Biblical truths that "greater love has no man that this, that he lay down his life for his friend." Giving up your life is a testimony of love unparalleled in high-faluttin' words or dramatic gestures. However, the vast majority of us won't be required to embrace physical death to prove our love for Jesus or anyone else.

It strikes me that in some ways, a life of sacrifice is a more demanding testimony of love than dying would be. The life of sacrifice, of being willing to give things up for others, isn't a physical event as much as it is a stance, a way of dealing with the world. To wilingly humble yourself before others, to allow others to have control, to be gentle and kind without taking any other pleasure and satisfaction than the knowledge that you are pleasing the Lord, this is life lived in sacrifice. And while the ending of your life is no small matter, the sacrifice is a single event. True, it has a profound impact on the future by basically giving it up entirely, but it's easier in some ways to make one decision to do one thing at one moment in time than it is to do it many times a day every day for the rest of your life. That is why the Lord delights in our daily sacrifices as much as a martyr's. One isn't better than the other, just different. The sacrifices are different, demanding different surrenders from each.

All of this is to remind us of the Lord's pleasure and approval of our sacrifices, whether we let a car merge onto the highway in front of us, or let our coworker have the last cup of coffee thus making us brew another batch, or letting our spouse watch their favorite program instead of insisiting on watching ours. Done with the mindset of Jesus, this is our spiritual and physical act of worship. As another line of Mullins' song states, "It's the love of Jesus puttin' on flesh and bone." And not incidentally, the mindset of Jesus will facillitate this process immeasurably.

I found this concept to be particularly powerful because over the years I have lost a lot of things; small things, to be sure, but accumulated they amount to a not insignificant loss, and the lessons they have taught my heart, the lies that have taken root there, need to be excised. One example is the various friends I have made over the years. Not the most social of people at my best, I prefer a small tight-knit group to a large number of friends I barely know beyond acquaintances. And it takes a while to reveal myself enough to begin to develop friendship. So when I make a friend, when I begin to develop that intimacy and comfort level with them, my instinct is to tighten my grip on them, to eschew making new friends and concentrate on the ones I've made. And they have all moved on with their lives, marrying and moving away. A natural part of the transitory nature of life, you say, and you wouldn't be wrong. "It's a fool who looks for logic in the affairs of the heart," Ulysses Everret McGill wisely stated. I don't pretend my rationale makes sense, but a deep sense of longing has dogged me for sometime now. Longing for friends and companions that won't abandon me (as I perceive the past friends I have had to have done, even if it isn't true).

And the Lord has been working on me to teach me to have open hands. To give up things I love instead of trying to hoard them and control them. Which ironically is the exact opposite way to deepen a relationship and to make new ones, thus explaining why I'm bad at it. I doubt that this concept is unique to Rich Mullins' song, but it crystalized it for me, especially with all the references of friends: Abbott and Costello, Paul & Silas, Wally & the Beaver, David and Jonathan. But the point of the song is that he and his friend are going to bring the Gospel to lost children, and struggling with their own inadequecies. Even in the midst of their insecurities, they come to the above realization, and the chorus (and song) conclude with the phrase "I hope that you remember/ I'm still your friend," a kind reminder that the act of friendship and love is giving of themselves to each other and to others and that doing so does not cancel out friendship, that no matter what situations arise or depressing thoughts persist, their friendship will remain. A good thought to end on.