How many college ministries are failing to hit the spot with college youth
When he asked me if he could lick my teeth, that’s when I knew the night was going downhill.
I’d met Daniel the night before at a party. He was attractive in a “filthy gorgeous” kind of way, with dark caramel-colored skin, a fit body, and glasses. I hadn’t really noticed him between the shots of tequila, passion fruit vodka and cheap wine.
That is until the end of the night when, in all my snicker-snockered glory, he came up to me and whispered hotly in my ear, “How horny are you?”
Up to that point, I had never been hit on by anyone in my life. As a short, disabled, more heavyset gay man, I felt as attractive as a vase of roses—two months after they had died, their petals dried out and drooping, unworthy of attention.
I never went to a party with the intention of “hooking up.” As a Christian, I was drilled (no pun intended) to believe that any physical sexual activity outside of marriage would essentially trigger the apocalypse itself. And so I stayed clear of any form of sex.
That is until I met Daniel.
After whispering in my ear (to which I gave the very loud, classy response of, “OH F**K, I AM SO HORNY!”), Daniel and I went outside. Immediately, I felt myself getting excited, in every sense of the word. Holy shit, this is really happening, I thought. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. And within seconds he was unzipping my fly.
The rest is history. Or so I thought.
The next day, basking in our excitement from the night before, Daniel and I made plans to meet again that night at his place. Sitting in his living room, I pretended to know what I was doing. As he started nudging closer to me on the couch, I leaned into him with the slyness of a rooster crowing at the first sight of sun in the morning.
It didn’t take long until we ended up his bedroom, where he asked if he could “lick my teeth.” And while I always appreciate someone who cares about my hygiene, I asked to leave.
It only took me less than a year to discover, but through multiple conversations with friends, readings, and ruminating on my own experience, I learned a vital lesson: In short, I found that complete sexual inactivity has become an outdated concept for many Christians. Churches and other college ministries need to embrace the topic of sex, and push the conversation beyond “Wait until you’re married.” They need to examine what sex — and abstaining from the physical activity of sex — looks like for today’s youth. In other words, churches need to allow a space for conversations about sex to occur, outside of parents, friends, and coworkers.
But that talk can be tricky. Ministry leaders tend to stay away from talking about sex in a large group because it is so emotionally charged. It’s bound to cause division – not just within the youth group, but also among higher ups within the church where there may be lack of agreement among staff.
Differences aside, there is no denying that many college students are getting down and dirty. In fact, 86.1 percent of men, and 66 percent women, ages 18-19 are said to masturbate, according to a 2010 study by the National Survey of Sexual Health and Behavior. For those ages 20-24, the numbers are even higher, with 91.8 percent of men, and 76.8 percent of women, who masturbate.
The statistics for those having sex may be considered even more climatic, especially for college students. For instance, 81 percent of men and 83 percent of women are said to lose their virginity between 19 and 24 years of age, according to a study by the National Center for Health Statistics.
So what’s a Christian to do?
The night of my spontaneous hook-up, after Daniel dropped me off, I went straight to the bathroom and started to undress. Staring at my body in the mirror, I felt disgusting. Since coming out, I had spent hours sitting down with my fellow Christian friends in coffee shops, doing everything I could to prove to them that I wasn’t going to be “one of those stereotypical gay people.”
“I’m not just going to go around and screw anyone and everyone,” I assured them with dramatic conviction. “That’s not me, I have values, I have self-respect!” Any theater major would have been proud of my performance.
Yet here I was, having just (almost) lost my virginity, and feeling like a dirty hooker. I had let my desires take over, and for that, I needed to pray for forgiveness. So I prayed, and cried, and got tested (clean!), and cried some more.
It took me awhile (OK, a little over six months), but I finally realized that this feeling of shame wasn’t because of God Himself, but because of the messages I wasn’t receiving in church.
From a Christian perspective, the only thing I knew about sex was that, well, you weren’t supposed to have it, and doing so was a sin.
Spiritual Sexuality
Many people of faith will argue that texts like the Bible are very clear when it comes to sexual activity. But the truth is, we are living in a culture where sexytime (in any form/meaning of the word) means different things to different people.
Scott Haldeman, author of Men’s Bodies, Men’s Gods: Male Identities in a (Post-) Christian Culture, offers an interesting perspective when it comes to Christian sexuality, with a term he calls “spiritual masturbation.” “Masturbation can be relationship-denying, frustrating, self-centered,” he writes. “It can also be centering, creative of creative energy, and expression of our desire to touch the life-force inside and see it manifest.” He goes on to state how “masturbation can expand our sexual vocabulary, reawaken our erotic imaginations, help us recognize our enjoyment of [ourselves] and reevaluate our understandings of our sexual orientation.” But by refusing to talk openly about this elemental human activity, the church has shrouded it in shame — and remains that much more out of touch with the people it tries to help.
About a week after my experience with Daniel, I started confiding in a few close friends, explaining to them what happened and how ashamed I was. For so long, I believed all Christians were but innocent virgins, who believed the devil was responsible for any sexual activity outside of marriage. To my surprise, I discovered that many of them were sexually active themselves. And those who weren’t “did everything BUT sex.” (I’ll leave that to your imagination.)
“If fooling around with my girlfriend keeps me from having actual sex,” one friend told me, “then why not do it?”
So it seems that more and more Christians are taking on this mentality of using different forms of sexual activity to abstain from actual sex. And it is likely that as generational changes occur in church and ministry leadership, views on sex outside of marriage, and gender/sexual orientation and relationships will also change in the broader evangelical and mainline settings. Fundamentalists will inevitably try to “hold the line,” but they too will eventually experience this shift.
Many college ministries could benefit from incorporating sex into their curriculum. If not already a part of the plan, make space for dialogue about sex to occur. If worried about the rift between members in the church (much like we see between Team Edward vs. Team Jacob), provide a place and time outside of your regular, scheduled meeting time. Host a weekly talk series about sex, sexuality, masturbation, and/or other issues college students may face, for both genders. If that doesn’t work, meet with students individually, and let them know you’re up for the discussion. You have to create an atmosphere where questions are welcomed and explored.
As radical as it may seem now, perhaps it’s the time for the church to stop beating around the bush, and catch up with this new, sexual Christian culture.
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Josh Galassi studies Journalism – Public Relations at Western Washington University in Bellingham, WA. He has written for such publications as Klipsun Magazine, The Western Front, & EDGE on the Net. When not tweeting at celebs on Twitter, he can be found drinking coffee, studying, and drinking more coffee. You can find him on twitter at @classyjgalassi
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