Ch-ch-chastity

An inspirational message from a friend of a friend:

A long-running inside joke emerged within my district in the MTC the day we started practicing to teach about the law of chastity.

Under normal circumstances, of course, chastity is no laughing matter. But when a blushing elder bears his testimony of the sacred law of self-denial by blurting out, for lack of a more, ahem, voluptuous Japanese vocabulary, “Chastity is my favorite!” I think we can all be forgiven for finding the whole thing a little funny.

Particularly because I don’t think many people would list a chaste and celibate life among their favorite things in the history of ever and, speaking from long-suffering personal experience, I can tell you that chastity gets harder and harder to like the longer it sticks around.

Now, before I am misunderstood, let me say that I am fully aware of, and grateful for, the blessings that come from saving myself for The One and Only. (Or George Clooney. Whoever comes knocking first.) The spiritual and emotional toll of illicit intimacy is certainly a higher price than I am willing to pay. But still. I can’t help feeling that I am suffering in virtuous virginity without the recognition that such a feat deserves.

Think about it.

We get certificates for memorizing the Articles of Faith, sew-on patches for learning how to tie knots and pendants, statues and courts of honor for accomplishing every goal on a predetermined list. But the honor of chastity? Not even a commemorative wooden craft or a pat on the back.

Or, think about this.

We go to great lengths to celebrate the simple act of turning one year older, which requires significantly less willpower (as in none) than decades of physical restraint. And yet, when is the last time you baked someone a chastity cake? I don’t think it’s totally unreasonable to suggest that a 30-year-old virgin get at least that.

We celebrate all kinds of milestones and accomplishments, both in and out of the church, and yet that high covenant of chastity, the violation of which is second only in gravity to murder (murder!) gets nothing. So instead of rejoicing together in the blessings of obedience and discipline, chastity often becomes a source of embarrassment, no matter how in but not of the world you are trying to be.

I never feel this more acutely than on my annual visit to the lady doctor. The conversation usually goes something like this.

Her: Are you married or in a relationship?
Me: Nope.
Her: Are you sexually active?
Me: No.
Her: Have you ever been?
Me: No.
Her: Do you drink?
Me: No.
Her: Smoke?
Me: No.
Her: Drugs?
Me: No.
Her: Do you wear your seatbelt?
Me: Yes.

And just like that, I feel like the lamest dud ever. Can a person be any more boring on paper? No sex and I wear a seatbelt? Brother. I can’t even see the edge I’m so far away.

But then in the same moment I think to myself, Now wait just a second here. I shouldn’t be embarrassed, I should be celebrated. Given my current life circumstances, I couldn’t have given better answers to any of those questions. Balloons should be falling from the ceiling. George Clooney himself should be sending me a congratulatory card. At the very least, I should be getting a cookie. Because true chastity is not what I could call my favorite. It is hard work and, let’s be honest here, sort of a bummer. But it is what God has asked me to do, and so I am doing it.

Is there anything more worth celebrating than that?

No?

In that case, I’ll take that slice of cake now.

Inspirational because the first annual Chastity Celebration is now in the works. Stay tuned for more details.