"The Intimacy Container"

   Tonight we tackled "the big one" at the Hub, again. Sex, sexuality, God's intent for it, our society's craze around it, and just plain anything associated with the letters S-E-X have been all over the place in February 2012. This time though, I found Charlie and Heather Ruce (the speakers; a husband and wife who are both counselors working with Soul Care House) full of awesome information, equipped with candid but deeply compassionate voices, and indebted to what they were sharing concerning God, healing, and their own stories for the lives (and marriage) they live now. I also deeply appreciated that they didn't mask the topic with too much humor (this is a pet peeve of mine; oftentimes, if a speaker is incredibly funny, once you get past the laughs, what was said is confused or pretty surface level.) They made sexuality a real topic and a topic that we shouldn't be uncomfortable talking about by being comfortable but also being real.

   I had a feeling things were going to go well when Charlie started the night defining sexuality for us, not as simply "genitals, orgasm, you know, SEX" but as our deep human selves that long for intimacy, wholeness, union, and bonding. This is how I have come to understand myself as a possessor of God-given sexuality, as a sexual being who is not yet supposed to be engaging in sexual acts. I, before marriage, in relationship or out of it, am still as sexual a woman as I will be within a marriage; my sexuality is a part of my identity and is much more than my decision to or not to engage in sexual activity, who I want to be sexual with, and how.

   In pursuing this topic further, between the sermon and our seminar tonight I read an excerpt from Philip Yancey's book Rumors of Another World in which Yancey takes a really human look at sex in the world and at how it might have actually been meant to be. Within this he quotes an author I am now very intrigued to read:

"The human being is constantly straining towards this infinity: a thirst to be filled, to be recognized in one's uniqueness, a thirst to be free, to be loving, to be a source of life for others... Our thirst is infinite but it is carried in fragile vessels." (Jan Vanier,  Man and Woman He Made Them.)

 This straining towards infinity is a beautiful way of illuminating aspects of the whole idea of our sexuality. Sexuality is much more than sex. If we can understand it in its wholeness, sexuality becomes far more beautiful, pointing to deep centers of our selves and beyond us to the divine, far more important, as it is an aspect of the reflection of God, and far more daunting to encounter, understand, heal, and live. We live in fragile vessels. Charlie and Heather took it a step beyond our personal fragile vessels to our relationship dynamics, where our individual fragile vessels seek to merge with others and create "intimacy containers" in the form of relationship.

  Intimacy is meant to be part of the human condition, a beautiful part. But any moment in which we open the box of intimacy and vulnerability, we also open the door to the messy. We cannot seek to merge our lives with another completely separate entity, alone in our own selves as we are, without tension, strain, awkwardness, discomfort, and probably some pain. Because intimacy is fraught with mess, the Ruces point out that it really needs a special place to dwell. In order for intimacy to not simply cause pain and heartache, we need to open to it within a container that is built for the purpose, a container of commitment that is large enough to handle the levels of intimacy that are being breached. They were specifically talking about physical intimacy at the time, but my own heart was struck by how true this is for emotional, spiritual, and conversational intimacy in my life.

   I have a bad habit of getting myself into a position where I have been much more vulnerable with another person than they are, or desire to be, with me. I desire deep connection, authentic relationship, and real conversation so I just go for it, almost all the time. Many a time this has created unbelievably amazing friendships, encouraged others to open up when they otherwise would have remained reserved, and overall been a pretty dang awesome wreaking ball for the Holy Spirit to throw at the fortress walls barricading souls from sunlight. But there are other times, and let's be honest, cross-gender times (yes, that means with you, men), where my penchant for vulnerability meets with confusion, uncertainty, manipulation, or outright rejection.

   Years ago, I found myself in "fake relationship" after "fake relationship," giving vast amounts of time, emotional energy, and intimacy to guy-friends without asking for, or demanding, any sort of commitment or definition on our "friendship." Much of this (I have recognized over much thought and prayer) came from my own history that predisposed me towards having low expectations in relationship ("don't ask for anything, it only causes problems, go with the flow, simply give") and my own fears, which led me to "wait" for the guy to want more, to define it, to "ask me out," all the while digging myself deeper and deeper holes of emotional attachment. (Now let me tell you, these men were there own kettle of awesome brokenness which I, in retrospect, am slightly horrified to have poured myself out over, but brokenness and abandonment seeks affirmation where it can find it, even if its self-created and completely misplaced. )

   Where am I going with this? The container of commitment is the only place in which intimacy can live without perpetual fear of abandonment. And unfortunately for fearful hearts (mine), containers need to be verbalized. Fortunately, for all hearts, Jesus makes the best container of all.

   We were made to share our hearts. Man and Woman compatible with each other so that only in pairing are we completed. And yet, even in that pairing, we are only able to reach a secondary level of completeness in this life. Complete wholeness waits upon union with our God which we cannot experience still living in this world. But we're lucky, because with Jesus, we have the opportunity to be just that close. After Christ's ascension, the Holy Spirit was given to us, as counselor, best friend, mediator and intercessor. God literally dwells within the bodies and minds of his people. Great, you say, that ought to make my completeness then, right? Wrong. (And seriously, if I made that claim, you'd know from your own experience of life that I'm only lying.) In some way, this having of the spirit only increases our longing for union with another. How better to experience God than for two pieces of him to come together, a heart meeting a heart, through intimacy and vulnerability, the spirit within me and the spirit within you communing?

   This is where that container becomes necessary. Suddenly, because of Jesus, I literally have an ability to interact with my God by interacting with the heart of another human. We get to partake in community with Jesus on a daily basis. But this communion in intimacy is still fraught with the potential tearing and pain that baring yourself to another ever has. This is where Heather and Charlie challenged me tonight. My desire to meet my spirit with the spirit in you is God given and beautiful. But without open words, real determination, and explicit commitment, that wreaking ball has more potential to completely cripple us than anything. This is why, in a vulnerable space like a life group, we covenant with each other. Explicit, verbal commitment to trust, confidentiality, compassion, and support.

   I am challenged now to pursue explicit verbal commitment in my individual relationships before barreling in with my vulnerability-crane. Before I give you a piece of my soul, do you intend to receive it and love me? "What are your intentions?" And what are my intentions? (I, too, have not only felt the hurt of my intimacy being manipulated or taken for granted, but have accidentally caused pain with it by seeming to establish a depth of relationship that I did not intend.) We have to be careful where we bare our souls. Simply knowing within our own minds that we do it in the arms of a compassionate Father who will always receive and love us no matter the outcome is not enough. We must be verbal with each other.

   I find myself at once incredibly liberated and stone terrified by the implications of these things.