the "s" word

I stood staring at the empty coffee pot for a good two minutes before entering the classroom. No, no. NO. They didn't make coffee this morning. A voice that my imagination associated with a very attractive man's told me not to go. Go back to bed, Whitney. It isn't worth it. Philosophy of Christian Music ISN'T WORTH IT. 

I fled the temptation Joseph-style, ignored the voice, and walked in, proud of my impeccable responsibility.

Within minutes, I was desperately doodling drawings of Native Americans punishing baby seals for sneaking licks of their ice cream, and a camel's vocal concert for an audience of clocks, conducted by a bear and accompanied by a carrot playing the violin. Anything to keep my eyelids open. My half-shut eyes glanced up at the clock

9:08 am.

An hour and twelve minutes left of this war with my eyeballs.

I was weighing the various methods to keep myself awake as my eyes started crossing and my professor doubled, then tripled in front of me. He told us to get out our journals, that we would be writing about how the music made us feel.

As if listening to the drone of my professor wasn't enough, now this battle involved the lull of classical music: what I like to call Audio Valium. Not only would I have to lie about classical music making me feel anything more than unconscious on a Monday morning at 9:14 am, I would also have to hear the rest of my class's lies as all ten of us tried to think of something different to say about the music:

Katie, what did you think?

Well, I thought it was mysterious and dark.

Carter, what did you think?

I thought it was pretty...eerie. And...dramatic.

Tim?

Yeah, it was definitely...scary. And....intense.

My mind raced as I scrambled for synonyms of the words written on my page: mysterious, dark, and eerie.

WHAT'S ANOTHER WORD FOR INTENSE??!?!

It was as if the pressure of finding an original adjective for the piece was too much for my coffee-deprived mind. My pride in my two years of aced vocabulary tests in middle school was dropping faster than my upper eyelid when I heard it:

Honestly, the one word that came to my mind was sex.

My eyes shot open. I looked over at Andy (whose name I have changed to protect his identity), one of the Marrieds.

Now, I am privy to the sheer covetousness that occurs on campus towards the Marrieds. It's as if their shiny left ring fingers symbolizes all the bottled-up hormones we single Christians have been righteously storing up for our soulmates since we watched the "My Changing Body" video in 6th grade and then read "Wild at Heart" and "Captivating" with our middle school bible studies. There is an obvious wall of resentment between the Marrieds and the rest of us, and I found myself trying to figure out if this was really what Andy first thought of when he heard the music, or if this was just a moment for him to bask in the glory of his wedding ring and all of the under-the-sheet passion it represented.

I'm not sure which is worse: rightful haughty boasting, or an ignorant, innocent opinion that still forces the Singles to realize they would have never thought of sex for this song, mostly because they've never had it.

Either way, Christians drop everything when they hear the "s" word. It is our favorite word. Even though youth pastors talk about it constantly, not realizing that the fact that they quote over eighty books on the topic in their quarterly "sex series" sort of negates their claim that the subject is never brought up. It is scandalous and taboo and shocking and WE JUST LOVE WHEN SOMEONE SAYS IT.

And Andy...well, Andy went and said it.

The class's eyes fixed upon our professor: what is he going to say? Is this word even allowed in Grace classrooms? I was searching through the filing cabinets of my Grace secretarial brain to try to remember the rules on this. My once almost-shut eyes could not have been any wider.

I...uh...beg your pardon?

He went with the classic "I didn't hear you" response; smooth, Dr. Z. But this response doesn't release him from the situation; it only buys him some time to formulate a mature, emotionless answer.

Andy noticed the tension.

Well, I mean it was very...intimate. Yes, intimate.

Was this an apology? Did Andy realize that, in his seemingly insignificant response to a random classical piece, he was single-handedly building the Married/Single wall even higher? Was this an admission? I looked around at my classmates, all burning with jealousy. None of us had thought of sex to describe this piece, and we all knew why none of us had thought of it. Our death looks must have broken poor Andy, who I am now sure initially gave a simple, innocent answer in an attempt to break the chain of synonyms the rest of the class offered, before he realized the gap he himself had widened.

Dr. Z's relief was almost audible. He agreed. Yes. Intimate. Like Jesus and His church.

Whew.

I won't lie, it took at least ten minutes for my eyes to grow heavy once again after the ordeal, and us Singles don't like to talk about it much. He kicked us where it counts, Andy did. And we all know it. And unfortunately all we can do is let him have his moment of glory and accomplishment, while we cling to 1 Corinthians 7 with all the passion that's burning within us.