I Regret My Virginity

I wanted to give this a better title - something subtle and intriguing which would avoid alienating any reader. And then I realized that this is an issue for which subtlety and intrigue have gone way, way too far. So, women of the world, please hear me again, ever so loudly and clearly:

I. Regret. My. Virginity.

This is a critical statement. In any logical, coherent setting, this is utterly earth-shattering evidence. Why, asks the good secular reader who did not grow up in the shadow of the epitome of chastity? Because, I respond, this one statement invalidates the cornerstone of youth groups around the world:

You will never regret waiting.

Now I must be fair; there is plenty I do not regret. I do not regret the absence of pregnancy scares. I do not regret my freedom from STDs. I do not regret my platonic friendships. I do not regret the pain I avoided in stock of breakups. I do not regret my goody-goody label, and still prefer it to slut. I count my lucky stars that I was never among those for whom the choice was not their own. In short, I'm grateful to have completely missed out on emotional, physical, and social turmoil - that which the church relentlessly associates with pre-marital experiences.

Caveats aside, my regrets remain.

Discussing Death with Myself

A near transcript of a conversation with myself this morning. I probably wouldn't have posted on it, but then an older friend voiced some of the same thoughts a few hours later (verbatim) and I began reflecting on them again.

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Call me selfish—I don't want to die.
"Is there a plausible reason why humans should die?"
There's all kinds of reasons I shouldn't want to. So let's consider this conclusion as significant personal progress toward mental health and move on.
"Come on. We can do better than that. Why do humans die?"
Hmm. Rocks are indestructible.
"Why not humans?"
Humans are life. Life takes a lot of energy to sustain it.
"So do stars. Why do humans live a fraction of a star's lifespan?"
Life is fragile. It's delicate. It wears out.
"Why? How is that an evolutionary advantage? Why? Why? Why?"
Thinking.
Thinking.
Thinking…

Because life evolves. Of course. I am the latest, greatest, and freshest. I hold the energy of the world in my fingertips. I am the promise of an unpredictable experiment, but one which is fast drawing to a close. By the end of a decade I will be quite molded in nearly all my ways, useful for maintaining the world I constructed only long enough for another generation or maybe two to take their chance. And then I will create room for them.
"Therefore, what is the meaning of life?"
The meaning of life is to establish more fit, more resilient life.
"Can one fail at life?"
No. To fail at life is simply to allow resources and energy to be made available for more fit, more resilient life.
"And what is the meaning of death?"
The meaning of death is to allow resources and energy to be made available for more fit, more resilient life.
"And a final question. How will I die?"
Humbly, knowing that I became fit and resilient at my chance in order to provide those after me with a new chance to thrive beyond what any of us can dream.

Family Time

I've been on Spring Break this past week, which I chose to spend with my family. Ah, my family…where the boys play football, the girls sparkle and cheer, the food guarantees early diabetes, and the cars are as sacred as those who love the Lord. I've concluded that there are two types of people in my family's mind: those who love the Lord and those who do not. I can at least thank Him that a snow storm cancelled our trip to the Creation Museum.* We're all still praying that their struggling Christian bookstore sells—soon.

And yet…

And yet something happened on this trip. In the midst of the stark, cutting, black-and-white worldview, I was unexpectedly reminded of some insight into the world. (Shocking, I know, that another worldview would give new insight into the world. So I'm slow, cut me some slack.)

Forgetting

It's been a gradual spiral back into nihilism the last couple weeks. Not sure what it is, exactly—probably the semester winding down, and dreary winter coming on. But futility and demotivation have been the name of the game for me the last few weeks. Blech.

Interestingly, the Christian agnostic thing is working out well for my reality-oriented self. So I'd still put myself in that category after all these months—a somewhat successful experiment I suppose. But the problem lies, as it always has, in trying to find the point of it all.

Support

Finding your world view shattered on the ground isn't exactly fun. But for an extrovert, infinitely worse was feeling as though I were a fish out of water on a sweltering desert island in a sea of well-intentioned sharks. Overstatement? Sometimes. But only sometimes.

My parents didn't get it. My mom was devastated, and my relationship with my dad deteriorated into long arguments. They warned me not to talk to my cousins because I was "such a good role model" for them. My counselor, dean, and professors were very supportive of my questioning—up to and until I stopped arriving at the correct answers. (I've found that such answers, of the sort which are also used in Bible studies and devotional books, can be terribly mundane once one has mastered the various formulae.) After many months of supporting me, my boyfriend (understandably) came very close to ending our relationship. One friend informed me that our friendship was over unless I wanted to continue listening to his views on the topic. After that I mostly stopped talking to people about it.

But there were a couple distinctly bright spots.

Irrational Fears

One of the most incredible, mind-blowing parts of the Christian experience is getting to be utterly invincible. It's fantastic. Honestly. If you've ever been down the Christian path you know what I'm talking about. See Romans 8: We know that in all things, God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. If God is for us, who can be against us? In all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Sweet.

So what do I do when, a couple weeks ago, I'm cruising through the South American countryside in a little minivan and I'm suddenly absolutely terrified for my life? Now, I should explain that this terror was not ordinary terror. It was post-traumatic stress from an experience with a driver a couple years ago who was too drunk to even realize when we hit another parked car. We're talking hard-core, irrational, psychological, "I'm gonna die today" terror.

One Year Anniversary

According to old emails, the anniversary of my question moment was about three days ago. Wow. So it seems like a good time to share a little more of my story. I'll start with that day for the heck of it.

I remember texting a friend that night, one of the people I thought would be most open and relaxed about it all, and asking if I could be a Christian atheist. I also remember being blown away by how strongly she reacted. I realized that somehow, I had finally asked one question too many, had crossed a line that thou shalt not cross, and I was enthralled by the newness of it all. There was so much excitement and relief that came from uncharted territory. It was all so freeing.

But as the weeks went on, and my parents began and continued to struggle, and school rushed at me with the religious fervor only found in a religious community, the fun quickly disappeared. I became bitterly nihilistic, lost most motivation, driven mad by menial tasks (there's so many of them) and occasionally suicidal. I remember sitting in my car late at night many times, sobbing and screaming at a God I didn't think existed for abandoning me to meaninglessness. Ecclesiastes says it better than I can. I began to truly appreciate why Nietzsche went insane. I talked with a counselor, a dean, several professors, my roommates, my boyfriend, and a few friends, and inevitably, with terrifying and increasing efficiency, my mind arrived at this single dead end of blank meaninglessness. Why fight, why work to have any impact on the world, when clearly the most efficient end was a permanent end? The thought of returning to Christianity was tantalizing, almost more than I could resist. To just…forget…to have the safety net, the peace, the hope, the assurance, the meaning. It was a miserable irony to recall the classic argument that surely Christianity must be true, because laying down one's life was the hardest thing possible. Miserable, because what I faced was infinitely worse.