Sex without permanence, like a gospel without permanence, provides no safety at all, only a miserable striving after what cannot be grasped. Without the joy and security of marital permanence, it utterly fails in its purpose to point to the joy and security of the gospel.

A recent discussion in my home centered around a television episode in which the “happy ending” consisted of the hero and heroine deciding to move in together but not get married. I suspect most readers of this post do not believe that that is truly a happy ending. But why? Is it just because God says so? Well, that would be enough, but there is more to say about it—God has given us more.
First, we must understand that sex, in its true form, is inseparable from marriage. This is more than just saying that marriage is the only proper context for sexual expression. It means that the very essence of sex, as its Creator designed it, includes it being an expression of the marital union. You can see this if you do a study of the passages in Scripture that use the phrase “the two shall become one flesh.” This phrase refers most literally to sex itself, but it also refers to the whole marriage union, of which sex is the physical expression. C.S. Lewis explained it this way:
The Christian idea of marriage is based on Christ’s words that a man and wife are to be regarded as a single organism—for that is what the words “one flesh” would be in modern English.… The inventor of the human machine was telling us that its two halves, the male and the female, were made to be combined together in pairs, not simply on the sexual level, but totally combined. The monstrosity of sexual intercourse outside marriage is that those who indulge in it are trying to isolate one kind of union (the sexual) from all the other kinds of union which were intended to go along with it and make up the total union. The Christian attitude does not mean that there is anything wrong about sexual pleasure, any more than about the pleasure of eating. It means that you must not isolate that pleasure and try to get it by itself, any more than you ought to try to get the pleasures of taste without swallowing and digesting, by chewing things and spitting them out again.¹
Sex as a physical union has its meaning only in the context of the relational, emotional, legal union that is the whole marriage. So while Paul speaks of sex with a prostitute as “becoming one flesh” (1 Corinthians 6:16), he does so only to point out how horribly such sex fails in its God-intended meaning. That meaning is only properly expressed when sex is an expression of the marriage union. Just like a word out of context can actually carry a different meaning, so, too, sexual activity outside of the context of marriage carries a meaning different than that for which God designed it.
And that God-intended meaning is nothing less than the gospel itself. In both 1 Corinthians 6:12–20 and Ephesians 5:25–32, the union termed as “the two shall become one flesh” is described as pointing to our union with Christ. And because sex is inseparable from marriage, it is not just marriage as a one-flesh union, but also sex as the physical expression of that union that is meant to picture the union of Christ and his Bride, the Church. Sex as an expression of marital union speaks the gospel; sex independent of marriage speaks anti-gospel.
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We can face the disappointments of life with hope because we know that one day sin, sorrow, and disappointment will be no more. We can repent over our sin and feel freedom because we know Christ became sin for us. We can live without shame because we know God will never leave us or forsake us.

I don’t know about you, but my life hasn’t always turned out like I anticipated. I didn’t experience the bliss of motherhood that the baby shampoo commercials promised. My dream job wasn’t such a dream after all. The house that was supposed to be better than the last turned out to be just as imperfect and broken. And no matter how many how-to books I’ve read, I still struggle in relationships, in my role as a wife and mother, and in organizing my life.
The truth is, life is filled with failed expectations. We pursue dreams only to find that they weren’t what we thought they’d be. Relationships let us down. Our bodies let us down. We let ourselves down. That’s because life is not as it should be. We live in a broken and fallen world where life is disappointing. It often doesn’t “work” or go as planned. We sin and are sinned against.
When life is disappointing, I often ask myself, how should I respond? Do I make lemonade from my challenges and view life from Pollyanna-rimmed glasses, denying the harsh realities of life? Or do I fully taste the sourness of this fallen world and just accept it like it is? Do I demand life work my way, or do I lock myself in my house, fearful of the next disappointment and failure?
Or is there perhaps another way to view life altogether?
In many ways, our lives as Christians are like walking on a slackline.
Have you ever watched a tightrope walker? We once went on a vacation to the mountains of Northern California. While hiking in Yosemite, we came across a group of brave hikers. They hung a slackline across a deep crevasse and walked across it. One misstep and the hiker would fall thousands of feet to the ground below. I couldn’t even watch because just the thought of what they were doing made me nauseous.
Like someone walking across a rope, we live out a holy tension. We are called to live in the world without being of the world. Because of Christ’s sacrifice on the cross for our sins, we are dead to the power of sin, yet not completely free from its presence. We are called to be both dependent on Christ (John 15:5) and to “work out our salvation with fear and trembling” (Phil. 2:12).
In fact, as long as we live on this earth and until Christ returns, we live in what theologians call the “already/not yet.” We are in an in-between time where life is not one-dimensional. It’s not as simple as making lemonade from the bitter experiences of life. Rather, life is an intertwined experience of joy and pain, tears and laughter, beauty and bitterness.
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How is a confidential relationship created? Does one person have the authority to establish confidentiality by fiat? What about the request of the leader/moderator of a group—does that, by itself, establish confidentiality? Does remaining in a group whose originator desires confidentiality equate to tacit approval of that imposed confidentiality?

It ain’t what you don’t know that gets you into trouble. It’s what you know for sure that just ain’t so.—variously attributed to Mark Twain, Will Rodgers, etc.
Much ink has been spilt—or, perhaps, many keys have been struck—over the recent release of emails from the National Partnership going back almost a decade. In usual internet fashion, there has been as much clutching at pearls as there has been gentle (or not so gentle) nudges to move along because there is nothing here to see. I suppose with these emails having been leaked, anyone curious is able to decide for themselves.
My concern in this particular article is not so much if the emails contain nefarious plots, but rather the oft repeated rejoinder that these emails are confidential, and that the real nefarious deed was their illicit release to the public. This is not a small accusation—keeping confidence is a serious matter.
It is not very far into the emails that a header is added indicating the desire of the moderator of the email group that all those who receive the email keep it confidential. Not long after that, the moderator emails the group in response to a leak of emails to a presbyter outside the group. In that email, he declares his understanding of the confidential nature of the group. In particular, he asserts that confidentiality exists because of the private (i.e., non-public) nature of the conversation the emails contain.
This assertion (both specifically in that particular response and more generally as the claim is being bandied about) raises a number of questions. How is a confidential relationship created? Does one person have the authority to establish confidentiality by fiat? What about the request of the leader/moderator of a group—does that, by itself, establish confidentiality? If the leader of a group indicates that it was his intention for the group to have a layer of confidentiality, does that declared intention, by itself, establish confidentiality? Would that confidentiality be retroactive according to the originator’s desire, or would it only establish confidentiality on an ongoing basis? What if members of that thing remain after the leader has indicated his intention? Does remaining in a group whose originator desires confidentiality equate to tacit approval of that imposed confidentiality?
Much in line with caveat emptor, I would say “let the one who seeks to establish confidentiality beware.” Confidentiality requires the consent of both—indeed, all—parties. Without that consent, statements of confidentiality are both hollow and unsupported—regardless of what statements are made in the actual emails.
It does not appear that the apparent initiator and the primary communicator did have consent from all parties that this was, in fact, a confidential group. Take the repeated reminders of the authors desire for confidentiality. If membership in the email group was conditioned upon confidentiality—that is, if a prospective member had to explicitly agree to confidentiality to be part of the group—then the emails would not indicate the authors desire for the group to be confidential. Rather, the emails would remind the members of what they had agreed to in joining the group.
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