Sweet corn appeared at our Farmer’s Market two weeks ago, and we carted it home by the sack- full to eat and to freeze. Though I couldn’t have verbalized it as I was growing up, it’s clear to me now that as a kid I longed to be somewhere safe. A place where a critical eye wasn’t constantly watching, and where, most of all, I could feel safe about what might come tomorrow and the day after that.

Somewhere deep in my memory, I remember my grandmother’s basement. It wasn’t, all things considered a very pleasant place—an unfinished, cobwebby place where the furnace and hot water heater creaked and clicked. But on the walls, in long lines on simple wooden shelves were endless rows of glass jars, filled with vegetables my grandmother had canned. She was Dutch-German and so never threw anything away, which meant that some of the jars had been there for years. It was difficult to identify what some of them contained, as if over time whatever it was had taken on a life of its own. But those were in the back, and Grandmother said not to worry, she’d get to them someday.

Often I was sent down to get one of those jars. Green beans or sweet corn put up the previous summer, and they never tasted like the bland stuff that could be bought in a grocery store. There was strawberry jam, slices of pears swimming in juice, and in the corner, a large vat where the huge cabbages she had raised in the garden slowly turned into sour kraut.

Ever since I have felt more secure with the coming of winter if we have food in the basement. Margie doesn’t put up things in canning jars anymore, except for freezer jam, but getting our freezer full each autumn is something that is deeply satisfying.

So we slipped the ears of sweet corn in boiling water (for 3 minutes), dropped them into the sink filled with cold water, then cut off the kernels and put them up in freezer bags. Today we drove to a nearby town to pick up the frozen meat of a hog we had purchased from one of the venders we’ve come to know at our Farmer’s Market. And later this fall the ½ beef and 2 turkeys we’ve purchased from another farmer will be ready. It’s been wonderful getting to know the people who raise our food.

And though I know that we live in a different time than my grandparents, watching the freezer fill up always makes me feel, well, as if we’re getting ready for winter. I know the reality of our lives and that the freezer only supplements what we get at the grocery, but that isn’t the point, at least to me. Feeling safe is a fragile gift, and not to be taken lightly.

And I tell you: if you haven’t tasted Margie’s sweet corn and strawberry freezer jam in the dead of winter, then well, sorry.

It does not take a prophet to suggest that the church needs to do some careful thinking about marriage in our 21^st century world. Or, more exactly, we need to do some careful thinking about how to respond faithfully to relationships that don’t exactly fit the mold the church is used to including in their fellowship. 

So, with that in mind, consider this fictional—but realistic scenario—and in your comments let’s think it through together.

The situation.

Jan grew up in a Christian family, but fell away from faith during high school and moved out as soon as she could. She had fallen in love with a classmate, David, and they moved in together soon after graduation. From the beginning they were clear that this was not temporary, but a permanent relationship. They were committed for life. A combination of disillusionment about the church, some political libertarianism, and no doubt a bit of rebellion kept them from having either a civil or a church wedding ceremony.

Jan’s family did not withdraw from them but included David in family gatherings, and though some tension was always present tried to make both Jan and David feel welcome. Not surprisingly, they said some things they later regretted, and wish they could do some things over, but on the whole they tried to keep communication open.

Then, after two years of living together, Jan and David began coming to faith (whether coming to faith or back to faith is beside the point—whom besides God can tell, anyway?). They started attending church with Jan’s parents, and hanging with them more. They asked questions, and discussions about faith became conversations instead of debates. One day they suggested they’d like to get married, and planned a date about a year in the future. Jan’s parents suggested that there seemed no reason to wait that long, so they moved the date up by six months. Jan and David went to the pastor of the church they were attending with Jan’s parents and asked him to counsel them and to perform the ceremony.

Response #1 

A date was set for beginning the counseling, but the pastor said he could marry them only if they stopped living together. (David and Jan were deeply angered by his requirement.) He came to this conclusion after talking with 5 other ministers in his denomination, as well as with the elders of the church. His concerns leading to his conclusion were three:

1. If Jan and David were really repenting of living together outside of marriage, they needed to act on their repentance.

2. A wedding ceremony is a service of worship, which would be compromised if the couple being married were publicly known to be living in a relationship not sanctioned by Scripture.

3. A wedding is public, and simply marrying Jan and David would send a message to both the church and wider community that there was no consequence for cohabitation.

Response #2.

The pastor should marry them without the precondition of their living separately, considering these five points:

1. All couples married in the church are sinners—equally sinners. The only question is whether we can see their sin and whether it’s the type of sin about which we set preconditions for.

2. There is a real danger that this precondition will turn Jan and David away from faith in these tender moments when their faith is weak and young and easily stumbled. That would be a greater tragedy—and the irony would be that the church would refuse to marry them while being the institution that insists they are wrong not to be married.

3. Even if this is repentance on the part of Jan and David, it is wrong to assume that when the Spirit works in someone the same results will always flow in the same order. Let’s face it: people grow at different paces and in weird ways. This precondition, no matter how well intentioned, is an imposition of law when grace is needed.

4. There are other ways to signal disapproval of cohabitation, if such is deemed necessary—one way is to bar them from the Lord’s Table until their wedding, and then welcome them to the Sacrament during the service.

5. As our world changes we need to be clear about what biblical marriage consists of, which is two things, namely a personal commitment to a life-long covenant relationship and a public declaration of that commitment. Since the Scripture neither mandates a civil license nor a church service, by this measure Jan and David are already married. The church should recognize this and develop ways to welcome couples like them—since doubtless there will be many more like them in the decades ahead as God calls members of the postmodern generation to himself.

Your response?

So, how should Christians think about this? How should the church respond to couples like David and Jan? What biblical texts are relevant? What, in other words, does faithfulness look like?

Yesterday the hymn for the celebration of the Lord’s Supper in church was Christina Rossetti’s “None Other Lamb.” I love its simplicity, the elegant way it captures the yearning of my heart, the way Rossetti surprises us with the images she paints in words so that we see things more clearly.

The first verse is a meditation on Christ, taking an impulse from Eden that captures the horror of the Fall and redeeming it. Adam and Eve, suddenly exposed in their pride and refusal to live by God’s gracious word, wanted nothing more than to hide. To hide from God, behind leaves. But now, in Christ, Rossetti has us hide again, but this time in forgiveness and acceptance.

None other Lamb, none other Name,

None other hope in Heav’n or earth or sea,

None other hiding place from guilt and shame,

None beside Thee!

It was the second verse that stunned me this time. For the past several months we have had a sharper than ordinary sense that a struggle is raging around us. No one thing stands out, particularly, but the details keep piling up and as they do my impression is that of an external force, pushing back. Friends suddenly struck down by accusations. Church leaders setting policies which appear biblical but which strangle mercy. Income to Ransom so low we wonder how much longer we can continue. I have been burned out before, but this is not that. Burn out is internal; this seems to be external.

As I sat in church I discovered I had run out of words to pray. All I could do is sit in silence. And then her second verse named exactly where I was, and am. Sometimes words fail, but heart’s desire thunders.

My faith burns low, my hope burns low;

Only my heart’s desire cries out in me

By the deep thunder of its want and woe,

Cries out to Thee.

I ate the bread and drank the wine, feeding by faith on Christ’s body and blood, knowing my wordlessness was heard. It’s called grace.

Christina Rossetti (1830-1894) has long fascinated me. From a very artistic family, her brothers, Dante Gabriel Rossetti and William Rossetti helped launch what became known as the Pre-Raphaelite movement in art. Other artists associated with them were William Holman Hunt and James McNeill Whistler. Charles Dodgson, better known as Lewis Carroll, the author of Alice in Wonderland, was a frequent visitor in their home.

Besides distinguishing herself as a poet—for which I am ever so grateful—Christina also posed as a model for several of the Pre-Raphaelite painters. The two images I have posted here are both by Christina’s brother, Dante Gabriel Rossetti. The first is a portrait of his sister; the second is titled “Ecce Ancilla Domini,” a painting of the Annunciation, painted in 1850, that uses her as the model for Mary. Rather than Mary passively receiving the news of the angel, as most painters have traditionally depicted the event, this image contains a hint of tension. It looks like Mary has been perhaps suddenly awakened, and that this news, no matter how glorious, is an interruption, and not without reason to wonder, if not fear.

I've already called attention to John Seel's review of Crouch's new book, Culture Making, and want to note another review that is also very worth reading--this one by Mark Petersen of the Work Research Foundation (you can access the review here). Though the two reviewers have slightly different takes on the book, what they say makes clear that some serious reading, reflection, and discussion is in order.

It was his novels--One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich (1962) and Cancer Ward (1968)--that probed most deeply into my heart and imagination. Scenes and conversations from both flash into my mind whenever Solzhenitsyn's name is mentioned. His massive, three volume Gulag Archipelago (1973-1978) was not easy reading but impossible to put down, convincing me that justice requires giving voice to the nameless that have suffered far from the front pages of historical reporting. The photo included here, by the way is his Gulag mugshot, taken in 1953 when he began his sentence in the hard labor prison camp in Siberia.

Today marks the passing of a great man. At age 89, Russian dissident, author, and Nobel Prize winner Alexander Solzhenitsyn died. I am no prophet, but I think it likely that history will remember him not in a footnote, but as someone who shaped history, informed minds, and stood courageously against tyranny with the power of truth.