"Washed and Waiting," Chapter 1: Celibacy and the Gospel Story

Today we continue our discussions of Wesley Hill’s book,
Washed and Waiting: Reflections on Christian Faithfulness and Homosexuality, as
part of our yearlong series on sexuality and the Church.

Wesley’s book is meant to
both complement and contrast Justin Lee’s book, Torn: Rescuing the Gospel From the Gays-vs-Christians
Debate, which served as a starting point for our discussion.
Both Justin and Wesley are gay, but whereas Justin concluded that a
relationship with another man could be blessed by God, Wesley has chosen
celibacy. I picked these two books because I think Justin and Wesley
represent the very best in civil, gracious, and loving disagreement on this
issue…which for them is not a mere issue, but a deeply personal journey with
deeply personal implications.

To catch up on our discussion, check out our Sexuality and the Church category. ​

A
Story-Shaped Life

In
Chapter 1, Wesley explains why he believes scriptural witness and church
tradition require him not to act on his homosexual desires and how the gospel
enables him to fulfill this demand.

He
begins by briefly addressing some of the same biblical passages we addressed in
our discussion of Torn—Leviticus 18:22; Genesis 19:1-11; 1 Corinthians 6:9-10;
I Timothy 1:8-11; Romans 1:18-32—as well as Genesis 1-3 and Jesus’ teachings on
divorce in Matthew 19:3-9 and Mark 10:6-8, which Wesley says “presents marriage
between one man and one woman as the God-given context for human sexual
expression and thus, in principle, rules out homosexual practice.”

“On
the basis of texts such as these,” Wesley concludes, “the Christian church has
consistently and repeatedly said no to homosexual practice.” (p. 53)

Wesley
doesn’t gloss over the challenge of this conviction .

“To
say no over and over again to some of my deepest, strongest, most recurrent
longings often seems, by turns, impossible and completely undesirable. If a gay
Christian’s sexual orientation is so fixed and ingrained that there seems to be
little hope of changing it, should he or she really be expected to resist it
for a lifetime?”

After
all, Wesley notes, Genesis 2:18 says it is not good for man to be alone, the
apostle Paul writes that it is better to be married than to burn with passion,
and Jesus warned against religious leaders tying up “heavy burdens, hard to
bear,” and laying them on people’s shoulders (Matthew 11:30).

But
Wesley concludes: “In the end, what keeps me on the path I’ve chosen is not so
much individual proof texts from Scripture or the sheer weight of the church’s
traditional teaching against homosexual practice. Instead, it is, I think,
those texts and traditions and teachings as I see them from within the true
story of what God has done in Jesus Christ—and the whole perspective on life
and the world that flows from that story, as expressed definitively in
Scripture.” (61)

Wesley
identifies six streams of this narrative that give him a context in which he
can see how his commitment to celibacy makes sense.

Forgiveness

The
first, he says, is the fact that “the Christian story promises the forgiveness
of sins—including homosexual acts—to anyone who will receive it through Jesus’
death and resurrection.” (p. 62)

“Christianity’s
good news provides—amply so—for the forgiveness of sins and the wiping away of
guilt and the removal of any and all divine wrath through the death and
resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead,” he says. “Seen in this light, the
demand that we say no to our homosexual impulses need not seem impossible. If
we have failed in the past, we can receive grace—a clean slate, a fresh start.
If we faith today or tomorrow in our struggle to be faithful to God’s commands,
that, too, may be forgiven.” (64)

The
Demands of God

The
second element of the gospel story that Wesley says puts his celibacy in
perspective is a God who is “known by his threat to our going on with ‘business
and usual.’”

“Far
from being a tolerant grandfather rocking in his chair somewhere far away in
the sky, God most often seems dangerous, demanding, and ruthless as he makes
clear that he is taking our homoerotic feelings and actions with the utmost
seriousness.” (67)

Wesley
says this is true for all Christians, whatever their sexual orientation, who to
one degree or another, “experience the same frustration [Wesley does] as God
challenges, threatens, endangers, and transform all of our natural desires and
affections.” (65)

“Engaging
with God and entering the transformative life of the church does not mean we
get a kind of ‘free pass,’ an unconditional love that leaves us where we are,”
writes Wesley. “Instead, we get a fiercely demanding love, a divine love that
will never let us escape from its purifying, renovating, and ultimately healing
grip. And this means that our pain—the pain of having our deeply ingrained
inclinations and desires blocked and confronted by God’s demand for purity in
the gospel—far from being a sign of our failure to live the life God wants, may
actually be the mark of our faithfulness.” (68)

The
Corporate, Communal Body of Christ

“The
Christian story proclaims that our bodies belong to God and have become members
of the corporate, communal body of Christ,” writes Wesley. “This is yet a third
reason Scripture and the church’s no to homosexual practice makes sense to me.”
(68)

Wesley
argues that, from the gospel’s point of view, there is no absolute right or
unconditional guarantee of sexual fulfillment for Christians.

So
“if all Christians must surrender their bodies to God in Christ whenever they
enter the fellowship of Christ’s body,” he concludes, “”then it should come as
no great shock that God might actually make demands of those Christians and
their bodies—demands proving that God, and God alone, has authority over us.”
(70)

Fellowship
in Christ’s Suffering

Finally,
Wesley points to the long-suffering and endurance of celibate Christians as a
participation in the suffering of Christ.

“One
of the hardest-to-swallow, most countercultural, counterintuitive implications
of the gospel is that bearing up under a difficult burden with patient
perseverance is a good thing,” write Wesley. “The gospel actually advocates
this kind of endurance as a daily ‘dying’ for and with Jesus. While those in
the grip of Christ’s love will never experience ultimate defeat, there is a
profound sense in which we must face our struggles now knowing there may be no
real relief this side of God’s new creation.”

One
way Wesley says he has received help in dealing with his particular struggle
has been through reading about the unfulfilled desires of others and how they
have dealt with them. He has drawn particular inspiration from Henri Nouwen and
Gerard Manley Hopkins in this regard. He also quotes from stories from C.S.
Lewis and Wednell Berry, and from W.H. Auden. (This lit major has sure enjoyed
his literary references throughout the book!)

Jesus
– fully human, celibate

Wesley
makes one more point at the end of this chapter that I actually found more
intriguing than any of the others.

“Woven
into the fabric of Christian theology,” he writes, “is the insistence that
Jesus Christ is the truest, most perfect, most glorious human being who has
ever lived,” and all the evidence suggests that Jesus lived as a sexual
celibate.

“It
may come as a surprise in our age of personal gratification that Jesus never
married and never had sex—with a woman or with a man,” writes Wesley. “And yet
he was the truest, fullest human being who has ever lived.” (77)

This
doesn’t mean that everyone who wants to share the true humanity of Jesus must
be celibate, he says. But it does “shift the terms of our modern thinking about
sexuality. It dislodges our assumption that having sex is necessary to be
truly, fully alive. If Jesus abstained and he is the measure of what counts as
true humanity, then I may also abstain too—and trust that, in so doing, I will
not ultimately lose.” (77)

Reflections

Once
again, I am impressed by Wesley’s depth, thoughtfulness, and honesty as he
shares his story, and I am personally challenged by his commitment to follow
Christ, no matter what. His point about Jesus makes a lot of sense to me, and
it forced me to confront a patronizing sense of pity, perhaps even condescension,
I have for Christians who have, for whatever reason, chosen celibacy. Wesley’s
right. Our sense that an active sex life is required for a fulfilled life is
indeed misguided and should be confronted. 
Those who have chosen celibacy—for whatever reason— can teach us some
important, critical things about self-denial and discipline. They should be
celebrated, honored, esteemed, and included in our faith communities, not with
pity, but with admiration and friendship.

However, I’m still reeling a bit from my reading of The Civil War as a Theological Crisis, and
so I can’t help but note that it’s one thing to choose suffering for oneself,
and quite another to require it of others. Is it right for the church to demand
that all of our LGBT brothers and sisters choose celibacy? Might that be “tying
up heavy burdens, hard to bear,” and laying them others’ shoulders?

Questions
for Discussion

1.    
What did you learn from Wesley’s observations
about the story of the Gospel? How might they be applicable to your life?

2.    
Do you think sex is a requirement for a
fulfilled life? What about romantic companionship? What about community?  (Note: I don’t want to reduce any partnership—same-sex
or otherwise—to sex, but it’s worth discussing whether a romantic partnership
is necessary for fulfillment in life.)

3.    
Do you think it’s possible to respect and honor Wesley’s
decision to remain celibate while also respecting and honoring Justin’s
decision to remain open to a same-sex relationship? Can those of us who have
not had to make this difficult decision affirm both, or does support of one somehow
diminish the other?

I’ll be monitoring the comment section closely to ensure that
things remain civil. I’ll plan to shut down the thread after about 36 hours.
Thanks for weighing in!

To catch up on our discussion, check out our Sexuality and the Church category. ​​

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