Yesterday, before dawn cracked, the Son Rise Morning Show called. Its host Matt Swaim asked a question: Will the Supreme Court’s decision to legalize same-sex marriage cause a marriage crisis?
And on live radio, I said no.
And I said it because it won’t.
But last Friday, a lot of Christians responded like it would — “as if everything was perfect last Thursday,” one reader wrote on his Facebook page.
“I now pronounce you married.” The notary public smiled while the groom kissed the groom. The crowd behind the couple cheered at one of Florida’s first same-sex weddings, filmed by the local news.
That was six, almost seven months ago, and was the result of the expiration of a stay on the US District Court ruling that said same-sex couples can’t get married here. The stay’s lift was a precursor to the Supreme Court’s decision on June 26 to legalize same-sex marriage.
Which is historic, and kind of causing a ruckus.
People are happy. Cry and kiss your partner happy. Jump out of your seat and shout happy. Happy enough to troll the decision’s critics on the Internet. And people are sad. Cry and pray in quiet chapels sad. Shake your head and pound your fists sad. Sad enough to do a lot of stuff that Jesus wouldn’t.
When I was a senior in high school, I had study hall as an elective, and a crush on a kid named Kyle. He had study hall, too. He sat at the back of the room. I sat at the front with a boy named Brian.
I don’t remember how, but Brian got it out of me: “Yes,” I admitted. “I like Kyle.” I giggled. Then I gasped. “But don’t tell him!“
I’ve got a couple of copies of Chastity Is For Lovers up for grabs today, and there are two ways to win (by 10 p.m. eastern time!). Easy ways.
1. Answer the chastity question in a comment on this post on my Facebook page.
2. Retweet the following tweet:
Winners’ names will be drawn randomly and to qualify, a participant must live within the United States. Winners will be contacted via Facebook or Twitter and must provide a snail mail address to claim their prizes.
There is something disconcerting and something else peaceful about being still in thought and silent in word in front of the Blessed Sacrament.
But en route to the church, I think.
I have to spill my guts to Christ, I think.
I think I have to tell him something and wait for his response, or for a blanket of warmth if it’s cold out, or something, or an inexplicable breeze if it’s not (neither has ever happened, it’s just what I think of). That this time, my prayer should be intentional and uninterrupted. No distractions.