Really—Is This Marriage?

In the debates I’ve heard within the context of the church regarding same-sex marriage, the call to preserve marriage as a union between a man and woman is referred to as “traditional.” It’s a fairly accurate term, since marriage has been looked at that way for a very long time. It is too bad, in my view, that anyone who finds a shift in that tradition difficult is often labeled as a hater or a denier of human rights.

On the other hand, those of us who are heterosexual followers of Jesus and interested in the debate about marriage might be missing something in the conversation. There’s a mirror being held up to us and we are avoiding taking a look at the reflection.

First of all, while the statistics are a challenge to accurately nail down, the evidence suggests that divorce rates in the US are ridiculously high (including for folks who are Christians), marriage rates are falling and premarital co-habitation is rising.

We have to look in the mirror and ask ourselves: Is this the tradition we are seeking to preserve? It is, after all, our reality. Or is it a lost ideal that we treasure? Is traditional marriage something that we heteros have mangled and crushed so thoroughly that it is hardly recognizable as marriage any longer?

There’s a story of an artist who would take several cellos, smash them with a sledgehammer, cover them with resin, and then sell them as art. It was as though he was asking the art community, “What do you think: Is this art?”

It seems like the gay community is lining up for marriage licenses and asking the rest of us, “Given that you’ve slaughtered the traditional concept of marriage, what do you think: Is this marriage?”

Second, when we look closely at all the people whose images are reflected in the mirror, do we only see them and us? If we look carefully we will see a common humanity that stands in tragic solidarity before God, all made in God’s image and yet fractured and broken. At the same time, it is a humanity that constitutes the world that God loves, a world that God, through Jesus Christ, is reconciling to himself, not counting their trespasses against them (see 2 Corinthians 5).

Since the battle for same-sex marriage rights may be over, we heterosexual Christians have the opportunity to do some self-reflection and start the conversation anew. Rather than point outwardly at the other while attempting to preserve a sense a righteousness, it is time for us to confess our own brokenness before God—including the sexual misadventures, fantasies, and deviances that roll through our heterosexual minds—and recognize our complicity in the sins of the world (see Jesus’ words in Matthew 5 about the connection between the mind and sin).

If we expect to participate in the ongoing ministry of Jesus in the world, then we will have to do so confessionally and with repentance. Our rapidly changing culture—one in which our story of faith is losing its dominance—is still our context for ministry. We don’t minister in the abstract; we minister in what is real.

And to do so with integrity, we need to look deeply into that mirror.

A Lenten Reflection for February 19, 2013

By your hand save me from such people, Lord, from those of this world whose reward is in this life. May what you have stored up for the wicked fill their bellies; may their children gorge themselves on it, and may there be leftovers for their little ones.

As for me, I will be vindicated and will see your face; when I awake, I will be satisfied with seeing your likeness. (Psalm 17:14-15)


I once created for myself a vision of what I considered to be my deepest values. I imagined standing out on the sidewalk in front of my house, watching it burn to the ground. In it were all the earthly things that I thought had sustained me: Insurance policies, savings, property, and so on. In my vision the fire took all these things away forever.

Next to me were my wife, my daughters, and our dog. I had my arms around them all and satisfied myself in knowing that this was enough for me. Everything could burn, as long as I had my loved ones with me. I was very satisfied with my vision, and I congratulated myself for my values.

A few days later the image I had self-created popped into my head, but this time it was involuntary. It was the same scene, but this time I was standing on the sidewalk alone. I sensed God saying to me: What if you lose it all? Am I enough for you?

I wasn’t sure I could answer the question. At least, I didn’t want to.

The psalmist is happy to leave his enemies to their appetites. Let them have it all, no matter the bitter taste it will leave in the mouth of generations to come. For the psalmist, seeing the likeness of God is satisfaction enough.

I know people who have lost a great deal—spouses, children, businesses, life savings—and have somehow moved on, even giving testimony to God’s faithfulness to them during their time of trouble and in the aftermath of loss and grief. I have not suffered such losses. I don’t know how I would respond under the circumstances of tragedy. I don’t know what it would be like, in the midst of such deep anguish, to be content in God and his love.

I hope that I would find satisfaction in seeing his likeness, leaving all other forms of contentment to those who would have them.

I hope that I would do that. God help me.