Tag Archives: Sexuality

Jesus, Sex, and Hope by Brittany Machado

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Posted by kritzau on March 8, 2012 – 4:28 pm
Filed under A Beautiful Mess, Finding Hope

Brittany Machado is a woman of many talents.  She recently graduated from University of Chicago with a Master’s degree in sociology.  She is an avid DIYer and adjunct faculty member at Azusa Pacific University.  Most recently she has found herself as a film producer, which you can read more about here.

 

 

 

I’ve always wanted to work on a documentary. It was a secret desire, one that I only entertained while I watched outdated “social and cultural” documentaries on Netflix streaming. I’ve met documentary film makers and quietly yearned for the excitement of their projects, to know the fierce excitement they feel about their work.

Lo and behold, my dreams have come true.

“Jesus, Don’t Let Me Die Before I’ve Had Sex” is the name of the new documentary I am working on with two phenomenal people, director Matt Barber, and co-producer Chris Pack. It is a film about the sociological and historical underpinnings of the current implicit and explicit messages of the evangelical church on sexuality, and how these ideas impact believers.

Sex is a difficult subject to talk about in the church. With abstinence rallies on one side and Gossip Girl on the other, how can one ever have a hope of finding grounded and reasonable conversation within the quiet trepidation of the church? In the last few years we’ve seen some painful divisions among various American denominations. It’s not so much that sex is just taboo any more; more importantly, it is violent and divisive.

And when divided with no hope of peace talks, we as sexual beings with a stake in the conversation promote the downward spiral.

There is much yelling these days. Contraception and freedom of religion; angry shock jocks calling politicized females “sluts”; reinvigorated abortion debates; signs reading, “God Hates Fags;” glitter bombings; Mark Driscoll; love the sinner, hate the sin; Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell; the San Fernando Valley condom legislation.

Sexuality is on the airwaves, in our relationships, and marking who is in and who is out.

How is it that a conversation about the most exciting, unifying, pleasurable, and evolving thing that is sexuality has become so dehumanized?

Getting to the point of being able to work on this documentary has been a surprising process for me. I grew up as the poster child for evangelicalism and introduced purity rings in to our missions trip outreach, a decision I deeply regret (as a sociologist, I am now acutely aware of how hegemonic that was). I was completely unaware how my very privileged, very not self-aware, very under-developed world view could impact others. I was the girl running around my high school telling everyone to save “it” for marriage without consideration of their stories, their contexts, or their beliefs. I believed I had it all figured out and that everyone would agree with me if only they would listen and really try.

I too, took part in the sexual dehumanization. This is not a “one size fits all” issue, and yet the urge is to make it so.

Sometimes when I think about my sexual journey I want to hide my head under the nearest couch cushion. Other times I literally laugh out loud because it has been just so funny. And more recently I have been practicing a lot of empathy. In the process of this documentary we have received many emails, messages, twitters, and blog comments about how their sexuality has been so skewed by conflicting and condemning information. Sometimes we as a production team sadly shake our heads, other times we make jokes while remembering similar experiences.

This is an exercise in listening, remembering, emoting, and responding. Gently, with humor, and with eyes wide open.

Some of the stories sent to us are angry; these usually include a clear statement about how the writer is no longer a Christian. These stories are sad, hurt, devoid of hope for reconciliation between faith and sexuality. When I read these stories I can honestly remind myself that I understand, that I totally know how for some people the differences between their religion and their body knowledge are incommensurable in the dualistic heritage of Christian sexuality.

It is out of these stories that my hope emerges.

Some of the comments and letters we get are zealously supportive of the project, and they give me a quick, sharp boost and I feel affirmed. But it is the angry, hurt, and distrustful from which I gather my hope and my energy. It is for these people and those in danger of alienation from some important part of their self that compels me to complete this project, and to complete it well.

A few days ago Matt and I did a guest spot on an atheist podcast. There will be more to come in the next year, but it drove home the reality that this is a bridge-building endeavor with a long-term vision for peaceful and humanizing conversation. You can’t shake your sexuality. You can repress it, exploit it, reduce it, and spin it in to dogma, but however you treat your sexuality, you must live with it.

This is a project about embodiment and hospitality to ourselves and others. This gives me a lot of hope for myself and for our communities.

 

 

 

Please STOP talking

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Posted by admin on November 1, 2009 – 11:23 pm
Filed under A Beautiful Mess

“What gives you hope?” It was the question that started it all. Last Thursday I spoke at a venue to women and men who had a passion for working with young adults. I talked about the retreats and workshops I lead, but mainly about creating safe spaces for women to heal from a culture of unrealistic expectations of perfection. By introducing different self-care and contemplative tools, women have awakened to the grace and hope inside of them.  Fueled by the Holy Spirit a revolution is beginning in their souls.

The gentleman who asked the question sincerely continued, “I mean this problem is so epidemic. If you talk to any woman you meet — it’s everywhere.” As I weighed this question in my heart, I began to tear up.  Very slowly I started to talk about how it would be so much easier for me to stop talking about the disease of perfection, have a kid, go on a diet and meet the culture’s and church’s expectations of me as a married woman of four and a half years. My hope is not in the fact that I could live a “nice” life. (Not saying that people who choose that life are bad, that is just not what I am called to). I wanted to explain my story so I was careful to choose my words about my husband’s and my choice to question whether or not we want kids. That’s our life. I don’t force or project this agenda on anyone. So it caught me off guard when a 50-something white male raised his hand in my pausing after I had just started explaining where my hope lies and said, “I have a thought.”

I sat there for a moment as I pictured the women in my life who have sat in my living room crying over shame and guilt, about broken relationships and promises, about their eating disorders and body issues. I remembered their faces in my mind as they realized that Jesus loves them just as they are when this same man raised his hand a second time. Since I was collecting my thoughts, I said, “Sure, share your thought.”

“Children heal a lot of brokenness.”

I didn’t have time to process the feeling in my stomach when he said it.  I needed to talk about the hope I’ve found in Jesus — not this man’s projection of a solution for me.  I understand that he had “good intentions,” but the road to hell is paved with them. I sat there later thinking what if I were trying to get pregnant and it wasn’t working?  What about if I was struggling with postpartum depression and child bearing made me feel even more broken?  What if I had cancer and my uterus was removed? What if I can’t have “normal” intercourse with my husband due to a pain disorder that makes sex feel like someone is branding me? That last one is true.

This past weekend Cissy Brady Rogers and I held our first Soul and Sexuality Retreat and the conversation continued. I can’t tell you what all happened there because it was a moving, healing, sacred experience. However, we did have a Wall of Shame where the women could write down their shame anonymously to voice to one another that we’re not alone.  They needed to get it out.  By the end of the weekend the wall was littered with post-its. Here’s a sample:

  • You’re not pretty enough for braces
  • Your miscarriage is a result of your sin
  • That’s for skinny girls
  • You need a boob job

My hands shake even now as I write those words. Oh the pain, shame and guilt women in our communities are carrying and why? Because someone opened their mouth and word vomited their issues all over them. These women carried years of vileness around with them because people didn’t stop to wonder how deep those words would cut into their souls.  How deeply it would sever their ties to the God who created them as wise women.

So my word vomit tonight is please stop talking. Please start listening to the women around you and not because we are feminazis with agendas but because we are created in the image of God with gifts and abilities that you don’t have. We have minds, souls, and bodies that need safe places to share and be restored. Sadly the church has forced them into hiding.

We don’t need to be told we are princesses or be coddled. We need to be loved and listened to — that’s what Jesus did. He sat in the dirt while everyone else threw stones. He had no stone in hand. He told the woman to go and sin no more — not to condemn her but to let her know she had a choice.

If you live with a woman or if you have a daughter or sister or friend please just this one week make intentional space to sit down and listen to her story — hear her wisdom — get in touch with her soul. It’s been too long to live with the shame that was supposed to be taken away on a wooden cross over 2,000 years ago.