Rethinking Singleness in the Church

In the Protestant tradition, we do not have a good way of handling those who are single later into life.  Perhaps they have made a commitment to singleness for the sake of the Kingdom.  Perhaps they have preferred marriage, but have not felt God leading in that direction.   Perhaps they have just focused on other things.  Whatever the reason, the Church often treats them like they are falling down on the job.  They should be getting married and producing families.

We often tend to look at singles as less mature.  We talk about how being married and having children matures a person.  I have found this to be a less-than-convincing argument.  I am sure that these life changes mature a person in many ways, but there are plenty of immature parents and spouses in the world.  We often forget that the solitude and silence afforded by singleness can have a maturing effect on a person as well. 

I have known many godly single people who have used their singleness to grow in Christ.  One man that I have known for years uses his freedom to visit mission fields and support missionaries.  Another woman that I know lives a life of service to her fellow believers, babysitting and praying for their families.  Another man has committed himself to a life of contemplative prayer, resulting in spiritual gifts that he is able to pass on to others.  Some of these singles are considered modern day saints to those closest to them.

At the root of a single life which is committed fully to God is a denial of self.  I often hear that some have the gift of singleness and some have the gift of marriage, as if a single person does not wrestle with the same desires that a married person has.  Just because a person has the “gift of singleness” does not mean that he or she does not get lonely or long to feel physical intimacy. One story of St Benedict is that one day, while thinking of a woman, be became so inflamed with desire that he threw himself in a brier patch to get his mind off of it.  Also, St. Frances was reported to one have said in his later years, “I may yet have children.”   A single person is just as human as a married person, but without the sexual or romantic outlets of a married person.  Instead, a committed single person has to choose not to engage in those types of relationship for the sake of Christ.  It is, in the truest sense of the word, a green martyrdom.  It is not about waiting for marriage.  Marriage may never come.  It is about loving Christ above all else, even our own comfort.

 

In the city where I live, about 60% of the people are single.  Some are divorces, some widowed, and some never married.  Some are single for a time, others are single for life.  The church needs to embrace the single adult, not by putting them in a class on the other side of the building, but by fully incorporating them into the life of the church.  Singles are part of the Body of Christ as much as large families.  Families cannot say to the single person, “we don’t need you.”  It is only as we live and grow together as one Body of Christ that we can be the fullness of the Church.

Praying Without Words

Someone once said that the reason that men like dogs is that they do not have to talk to them. I often find that to be true in my own life. One of my favorite things is to sit on the sofa and watch a movie with my dog in my lap. I also enjoy quiet walks with my dog. I do sometimes talk to my dog, but most of the time, it is enough for him if we are just together.

 I struggled with prayer most of my life. I was taught that the essence of prayer was talking to God. For someone who is not always chatty, I found this to be a challenge. What a relief it was for me to learn that prayer did not have to be talking. It could be sitting in silence with God just enjoying his company.

Sometimes he has something to say to me as I listed. Other times he does not. The point is not so much to talk as it is to hang out with each other. I sometimes picture Christ with me as I walk or drive. This helps me some times to see the reality of his presence. Sometimes, while sitting in my desk at work, I look up and picture him sitting in a chair across from me. I give a little nod. Sometimes, I make the sign of the cross on my forehead or touch the prayer beads in my pocket. All of these are prayer, yet I might not say a thing.

 I have found that this non-discursive prayer has freed me to experience prayer on a newer level. I don’t feel as pressured to be verbose. When I do lead in public prayer, I find that my prayers are shorter and punctuated with silence. In all of my prayers, I do not have to perform. I can just be.

Luxurious Simplicity

Today I had a thought come into my mind that I will call, for lack of a better phrase, “luxurious simplicity.” Luxurious simplicity is not stark. It is not a poor simplicity. It embraces beauty as well as moderation. The idea behind luxurious simplicity finds the balance between comfort and freedom from material possessions. It allows for beautiful furniture and a nice home, but seeks to work on a smaller scale. Instead of buying a large house, a person wishing to live in this way may buy, or build a smaller home which would require fewer furnishings. Instead of buying a living room full of furniture, a person may decide go buy a few carefully chosen pieces. A person living this way may have a few nice shirts instead of a closet full of them. Having fewer things means that one can spend a little more on what is important. It also means having to spend less time taking care of them, which could mean more time in prayer. I am reminded of a story I once read of a monk who loved beauty. In his cell, he had one picture that spoke to him. He would spend time each day enjoying his painting. In the midst of his austerity, he had his beauty. It is not the amount of beauty that we surround ourselves with that is important, but an appropriate beauty in its appropriate place.

Calling: 24-7

For most of us, doing the work of the Kingdom is like a part-time job.  We go somewhere or do something once a week, once a month or several times a year.  In between it may feel that we have a lot of down time.  Lately, I have been asking the question, “what if I want do to Kingdom work today or right now?”

A friend the other day told me of some who seem to have an identity of a minister.  They may or not have an official title or station within the church, but they are always sharing Christ’s love and care with others.  For them, pastoral care is not something that they can just pick up and put down again when they retire.  It reaches the chore of their identity.

Perhaps what I am wrestling with is an idea of vocation.  Unfortunately, in most of the churches I have been in, vocation is limited to a few people on the church staff.  Furthermore, many of those staff members experienced their work as more of a job than a vocation.

Every once in a while, there comes along someone like St. Francis, whose sense of vocation changes the world and creates a new category of calling.  Wisely, the church affirmed this vocation, but it could have just as easily gone the other way.  What would the world be like without the Franciscan family today?

Perhaps the church needs to be a little more creative in this idea of personal vocation.  I wonder how many times the church has missed the opportunity to come along beside someone on whom the Spirit has his hands.  What if, instead of the church’s asking where someone could fit into their plan they asked, "where is the Holy Spirit already working in this person?"  What if most churches felt free to create new categories of vocation?

Creating these categories of vocation would necessitate empowering those to do the work to which they are called.  These new ministers may need new tools.  Our old manuals may have to be supplemented.  Professional clergy would have to be willing to share the work and the blessings. 

I can almost see a church with many orders: orders of artists; orders on hospital pastoral care givers; orders of teachers; and orders of sages.

Blessing the End of Life

For the third time in three weeks, I find myself walking through the end of life with someone I know.  In all three cases, a close relative, a close friend and a new friend, I have been faced with the question of how I could be a blessing to the dying and others in this moment. 

We as a culture do not handle death well.  We avoid it as long as possible.  Great sensitivity must be taken in not naming it too soon.  Modern medicine doesn’t help by teaching us that death is in all cases the enemy.  It fights it and refuses to acknowledge the rightness of a respectful end of life.  I find that there is often a sense of relief when we finally name it.  We can then begin the mourning process.  We can deal with it straight on in a gentile and loving way.

I find that the church needs a better way to bless this final stage of life.  We need to have a way of commemorating this transition.  It should be a dignified time.  A sacred time.  We have the Ministration at the Time of Death, but what about the day or two before an eminent death, which may for a lay minister be the last visit that they have with the person?  Is there some way that we could speak a blessing that could acknowledge an impending passing?  Unfortunately, we avoid it until it is too late, and ministry opportunities are missed.

Disappointments

I recently faced a disappointment.  I had made plans, invested a great deal of time, and it seemed to vanish overnight.  I was flooded with many emotions from anger to defensiveness to sorrow.  I had many questions.  Was this really God’s will?  Was there a human mistake?  Are the two mutually exclusive?  Where am I to go now?

I was reminded by a friend that disappointments can be places of transformation.  It requires us to check our plans against God’s.  It reminds us that it is not all up to us.  I was asked to look for places where God could meet me in this situation.  I was also reminded that God is not boxed in by our expectations.  He is much more expansive than the little categories that we make.

Disappointments are sure to come.  It is a part of our being broken people living in a broken world.  But if we turn these misfortunes into places of worship, they may be powerful moments of growth.  Often, it is not on the mountaintop where we encounter Christ, but in the wilderness.

Following to an Unknown Land

In his book Money, Possessions and Eternity, Randy Alcorn raises the concern that most of us, having lived our entire lives in our American culture, do not know what it is like not to be materialistic.  This is a real concern for those who wish to move past the materialism that surrounds us.  Like Abraham, the journey out of materialism to the life that God would have for us is leaving home and traveling to “a land that we know not of.”  Perhaps it is like a young person who has lived all his life in the desert who decides that wants to live by the sea.  He doesn’t know what the sea is having never seen it.  Perhaps he does not even know where it is.  He only knows that he cannot live by the ocean until he leaves everything that he knows.  There may be many around him who seeing the mirages say that they have seen the sea.  They say that there is no need to take a long and dangerous trip.  It is just beyond our reach.  How more pitiful it would be for the young man, knowing that it is a mirage, to chase it anyway.