One of the members of The Lasting Supper linked to this post, “Christians Are Not Called To Have Amazing Sex”, wondering about its assumption that bad sex can be good. It started quite a discussion. Is it healthy to see bad sex as a cross to bear, something we need to endure and suffer, and that God might have consigned us to bad sex as a means to learn patience, etcetera? I think we too easily fall into the pattern of transferring the responsibility away from ourselves, thereby turning ourselves into unnecessary victims.
So one of our members,my good friend and writer Amy Mitchell and I decided we would collaborate on a post today. I would draw the cartoon and she would write a story. I show part of the story here. Click on “read more” to read the rest of it on her blog. The story is called “Suffering Servants”:
Terrie was exhausted. It had been a long day at work, and all she wanted was to put on her pajamas and curl up in bed with the covers over her head. She climbed the stairs slowly, already removing her confining business attire as she went.
Inside the bedroom, she finished undressing and donned a pair of soft, gray pants and an old t-shirt. With a groan, she flopped face-down on top of the covers. She was even too tired to turn back the sheets and comforter.
Meanwhile, Bill was busy finishing a report he needed to email before midnight. He hit send, then leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head. He tilted his head to one side and then the other, working out the kinks. At last he stood up.
He’d heard Terrie heading to bed five or ten minutes before, after a quick kiss and a glass of water. He, too, was exhausted. He was glad it was almost the weekend. They could both use some rest. Not for the first time he considered updating his resume.
Bill followed Terrie up to their bedroom. He smiled at her prone form on the bed, her hair partially covering her face. He pulled off his clothes and grabbed a pair of sweats out of his dresser.
When Bill settled down beside Terrie, she turned her head toward him. She smiled, though she kept her eyes closed. “Thought you’d be up a while.”
“Nah. I had all evening to work on the report. I missed having time together, though.”
“Mmm.” She cracked one eyelid. “We could make up for it now.”
“You sure? I’m kinda tired, and you look whipped.”
“It’s okay. We’ve barely seen each other today.”
They didn’t bother with preamble; they just pulled off their own clothes and worked their way to the middle of the bed –> READ MORE <–
I invite you to join The Lasting Supper, a great community of friends within which to deconstruct.