(This is Part 4 of the series, Twelve Pieces of Flesh where I discuss the crisis of conscience of the Christian writer–say that three times fast. I recommend reading Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3 before continuing.)
“What is that?”
I looked in the rearview mirror to see my three-year-old son awaiting an answer to what my friend had just spelled: S-E-X. (Why did I teach him basic phonics?) She and I answered rapid-fire:
Friend: It’s what people do when they love each other.
Me: But when they’re grown up.
Friend: Yeah.
Me: And married.
Friend: Right.
Me: It’s not a bad word, sweetie, just a grownup word. God made it, so it’s good.
Silence.
I glanced in the rearview again. “Does that answer your question?”
“Yep.”
God made it, so it’s good. That sentence hung in the air as we drove the last stretch home.
Of the topics covered in this series–violence, explicit language, sex–it’s the only one that God actually made humans for, or, rather, for humans. So, why do so many Christian authors shy away from the topic? Why do some euphemize to the extent that the sex scenes are the only ones in the book not written in full color? This is accepted in Christian culture as appropriate. I have to wonder, though, if we are robbing our readers or tampering with the art itself.
The good news is that the Bible is full of sex, so we can look to its writers for guidance. There are three ways the biblical authors characterized sex: ideal, corrupt, and redeemed.
Ideal
Song of Solomon is a duet between a groom and bride. And, boy, does that groom love his bride’s lips. And tongue. And breasts. There are a few passages where the bride might even be talking about her lover’s package (2:3, 5:15), but considering my lack of background in ancient Hebrew, you shouldn’t take my word for it. The adoration expressed is almost exclusively physical. It’s intimate. It’s unrestrained. It’s advertised.
And it’s praiseworthy.
Corrupt
If you read Part 1 of this series, you don’t have to look any further for sexual abuse in the Bible. Rape, adultery, incest, prostitution, polygamy–throw a dart at the Old Testament and more than likely you’ll hit one of these, sometimes in graphic detail (For instance, Genesis 38:9, “[Onan] spilled his semen on the ground…” That paints a picture I’d rather not see.).
The Bible doesn’t shy away from displaying the sexual misconduct of even its heroes.
- Jacob married two sisters, Leah and Rachel, but only loved Rachel.
- Judah, father of the tribe of Judah, solicited sex from his daughter-in-law when he thought she was a prostitute. Then Judah almost had her burned to death for said prostitution. And you think your in-laws are bad…
- Rahab hid Jewish spies in Jericho, where she was a prostitute.
- David, a “man after God’s own heart,” forced Bathsheba to have sex with him even though she was married (as was David), then sent her husband to certain death when she found out she was pregnant with David’s child so no one would know of their affair. Obviously, the coverup was a great success.
- Solomon built the first temple and had 300 wives and 700 concubines.
Redeemed
There is nothing good about Jacob’s polygamy, Judah’s sex-solicitation/incest, Rahab’s prostitution, David’s adultery/rape, or Solomon’s man-whoreness. But God is good. Want to know what all of this vileness resulted in?
Jesus.
Jacob didn’t love Leah, but he still used her for sex. Leah gave birth to Judah
Judah and Tamar conceived twins in their one-night-stand. One of them was Perez.
Perez’s descendent was Rahab.
Rahab’s great, great grandson was David.
David and Bathsheba had a son named Solomon.
Solomon’s line traces to Jesus.
Sexual sin sucks. That doesn’t mean God can’t use it for good.
What does this all mean for the Christian writer? Sex is fair game. We don’t have to be bad writers about this one topic because it’s taboo. We can be artful and sensual and free. We can safely write about sex in all forms: ideal, corrupt, redeemed. Realistically.
This means we can write about a married couple who has sexual conflict even though they are doing it God’s way. We can write about rape and incest in a way that gives words to survivors’ stories. We can write about a healing sexual relationship between two people who aren’t married. If it’s real, it’s real.
You might be thinking, “Wait! That means writing porn.” Yes, real can get graphic. But, by definition, erotica is literature written with the intent to arouse. When you write that sex scene, are you trying to turn your reader on? Everyone’s threshold for arousal is different and each is responsible to his own conscience. What is erotica for one person won’t be for another.
I have to ask, though, is it wrong for Christians to write erotica? Lust is a sin, sure, but lust is defined as a conscious desire to have sex with someone you are not married to. Does erotica cause this? Maybe. Maybe not. What I do respect is the fact that, like anything, erotica can be abused and has potential for harm.
So, before we write any sexual content, we should evaluate our motives. Intentions, after all, are the heart of the matter.
