Taking the Condom Off of Jesus

"No, Jonathan," he protested, "you can't put a condom on the cross." I thought it was a great idea. What a powerful image! A condom can be a strong metaphor for the obvious - a method of protection, a barrier, a binding. But it can also be a more complex metaphor for such oxymorons as "safe intimacy" or "risk-free love." And who says that it's inappropriate for a worship context? Come on. Trojan adds are on prime time! But alas, I was in a church that thought such things were inappropriate, and I had to compromise and wrap the cross in cellophane (like that's free of sexual inuendos!). The point? We were talking about how Christians get together, form a sub-culture, and claim exclusive rights to Jesus. We were talking about how we try to protect Jesus (and ourselves) from the voracious influence of "the world." We were talking about how Jesus can't fit inside our confining...cellophane? (see how the condom image works much better?) That was two years ago, and I was reminded of the metaphor a couple of days ago when a friend of mine told me of a recent experience he had.

We'll call him Matthias (because Mathias never really did anything noteworthy in the Bible and it's about time something is attributed to his name!). Matthias is an eighth year senior at a state university, not because he is a bad student but because he changes his major more often than his underwear. He exudes the eccentricity of Pauly Shore's character "Crawl" in SON IN LAW, but balances it with the seemingly random wisdom of Mr. Miyagi in THE KARATE KID. Matthias is genuinely spiritual as evidenced in his resonance with Zen while simultaneously pursuing Jesus. He is himself to the core. He questions and thrives in neo-Enlightenment conversations. Matthias reminds me of the Apostle Paul when he asks, "Why would God waste his time on a loser like me?" How can you not like Matthias?

The experience Matthias had? There is a group of Christians on Matthias' university campus, and because of Matthias' bent toward spiritual conversations, he decided it would be a great place to belong, question, and dialogue. He went to their meeting, and in a matter of a few months had matter-of-factly told them he didn't like their meetings, started a mosh pit in worship, and openly admitted that he has made out with some of his friends. But along the way, he asked some questions about faith. He genuinely wanted to hear others' perspectives. Matthias believes that other perspectives help shape his own. He is a guy that has come from experiences with pseudo-Christian cults and Buddhism that are narcisistic at best and hedonistic at worst. He is a guy that has come from a sometimes-amoral lifestyle and often immoral lifestyle. He is a guy that has journeyed quite a distance toward Christ-likeness, maybe much further than most of the people he met at the Christian gathering on his university campus. But Matthias didn't care how different they were from him. He was seeking authentic Christian community. And what did he find? They asked him not to come back. Yep, they said he made them feel "uncomfortable." The leadership of the group was followed up by an emailed vote of acclamation from angry and hateful group members. Matthias asked them what he did to make them feel "uncomfortable." He wanted to know what he could correct in his behavior. Their answer? "We don't know. You just do."

The real issue? They were scared the condom was going to break. Someone was going to get "knocked up" by his questions and sincere struggle.

Matthias loves Jesus. Matthias tries his hardest to follow Jesus. Imagine what would happen if someone who didn't have an affinity for Jesus walked into their group and started asking questions.

Come on. Let's risk a little. Take it off. It's better that way.