Confusing non-Christians with the Unchurched?

There have been a lot of posts on this blog about Christian women only wanting to date Christian men, so that they will eventually marry a Christian man. There have also been a lot of posts about the problem of being attracted to non-Christian men. I am wondering if some of the men called non-Christian are in fact Christian, but are currently Unchurched. And therefore being rejected unfairly.

It seems like a lot of single Christian men become Unchurched sometime between 15 and 30. They don’t seem to return to attending church until after they are married and have children of their own.

I first noticed it starting in high school, that church-going Christian boys that were fifteen or older were not attending church as much, or stop going altogether. In the Army, talking to fellow soldiers attending services on post that they said they did not like to attend church when they were back home on leave. I later noticed a similar thing with college men active in Christian campus outreach programs. They said they were uncomfortable in attending the church they grew up in.

I heard comments like, “Church is only for women and children,” or “Church is made for elderly people.” The consistent story was that these Christian men felt alienated in the church they grew up in, but not in the military churches or campus outreach bible studies. I assume that most of them became Unchurched when they left the military or graduated college.

My question to the Christian women out there is, “How do you determine someone is a Christian or not?” If you ask if they currently attend church and they say “no,” do you then ask if they used to attend church and had accepted Jesus as their Savior?


Fred, the 43 year old Christian husband of 22 years and a father of three.

This Girl Wants To Have Fun

So I thought I was having a similar issue as The Science Girl. Recently, I’ve met some new people in the social realm. It’s been interesting.
In the process I’ve been hanging out with people I normally have not in the past, and honestly.. It’s refreshing.
Several guys have asked me out in the past month. None of them are Christian, or even involved in a church. So I went out with one of them a few weeks ago. Like Science Girl, I didn’t like this guy ‘like that.’ When we first met, I found him to be a bit too eager and overwhelming. As I thought about his offer for dinner, I simply ticked off the reasons why not to accept. It’s not the first time I’ve done this, but I’m really hoping it’s the last. A co-worker reminded me, that I was making judgments based on inaccurate information. After all, I really did not know much about this young man so why not at least take him up on getting to know him?
He called me from the airport to see if I wanted to get together. I was flattered that a guy wanted to have dinner with me after traveling all day instead of going home and crashing. This was also the first time I went out to eat with someone of the opposite sex at a restaurant that I actually really liked. Usually, I end up going along to some place where I tolerate the food. With my previous boyfriend, we were constantly doing things he wanted to do that I didn’t really enjoy. It was pretty one sided, and I didn’t feel like I had a voice. Never will that happen again.
While I drove home, I couldn’t get over the surprisingly pleasant experience. Sure, there’s still a chance the dude could be a serial killer or something... but he’s at least a decent date! He seems potentially flirtatious, and I really don’t do that. It bothers me when guys act like they’re single when their girlfriend’s not around. We’ll see if there’s more hanging out... The strange thing is how he’s kind of grown on me. I can safely say I do like him ‘like that’ now. Two weeks ago I was so sure I didn’t.
At this point, I’m not sure what will come out of this whole situation. I haven’t had much experience with relationships, and I am not sure what the point of dating is. Especially when you’re a Christian gal seeing non-Christian guys? Is it okay for a girl just to wanna have fun? (At least right now?)

the artifice of beauty

"God has given you one face, and you make for yourselves another." ~William Shakespeare, Hamlet

Now, the quote is not at all in the spirit of what is to follow, but I couldn't resist Hamlet's judgment on the use of makeup, vicious as it may be.

The thing is, I'm sometimes so tired of wearing makeup. I was thinking today how much simpler a morning routine must look to a guy (with the exception of facial shaving. I don't envy you gentlemen that -- although confessedly a razor is a handy way of getting rid of that dreaded upper lip hair, I don't have to plane a blade all over my cheeks and chin, which I do appreciate). You shower, gel your hair, dry it if necessary, get dressed, apply cologne, and go.

Here is mine in a very, very small nutshell. Lightly moisturize face. Apply green correcting fluid to all blemishes to cancel out redness and hide them. Apply ivory concealor to undereye shadows and creases in nose to cancel out the purpleness and keep me looking young. Apply the four different shades of eyeshadow -- base, main colors, dark shade for deepening outer corners of eyes and lower lash line. Apply eyeliner to upper lash line and blend. Apply double-coated mascara (white for volume, black-brown for definition and length). Apply blusher along cheekbones, forehead, nose, chin, and jaw for overall healthy, glowing appearance. Throw hair into some kind of order and run out the door. Oh crap. Forgot to change out of pajamas.

This usually takes fifteen to twenty-five minutes, depending on the number of zits (depending on the stage in the menstrual cycle) or the severity of tiredness which leads to deeper purple shadows.

There are many days when I delight in my sparkling appearance, created by subtle touches to what's already there. There are other days when I want to flout the social laws of beauty and run to work au naturale.

But generally I can only leave my face in its naked, bezitted glory on Saturdays when I don't plan on donning real clothes or leaving the house at all. I may sneak to the grocery store in my baggiest clothes and avoid everyone's eyes hoping no one is looking at me, but mostly when I'm out in public I have to "put my face on." It drastically affects my confidence and the manner in which I look at people, walk around, even smile.

Makeup is nothing new. Ancient Egyptians and Greeks used it; women in Shakespeare's time used it; women in the forties used it. And why? Why does beauty require a hiddenness of all minor imperfections?

I suppose that's obvious. But interestingly, I find that people seem more comfortable approaching me when I'm not wearing makeup. Not when I'm avoidy and furtive, but when I just don't frigging feel like putting it on and saunter outside defiant of all cultural mores and breeze around smiling, people like to talk to me. Maybe it makes me look friendlier, more natural, less put-together and therefore not intimidating. Maybe the confidence I get from having an artfully done-up face also makes me a little more aloof -- like there's a mask on. A mask a hundreth or a thousandth of a millimeter thick.

Dunno. But particularly when going to a club or restaurant, or heading to work, if I'm not wearing makeup I feel slovenly, freakish, and downright ugly. And that tends to put me down on myself.

So I continue to apply the liquids, powders and kohl. Besides, even if it's inconvenient, it really is very well done (I learned so much about makeup application from my mom, my Mary Kay consultant, MP, Madeleine L'Engle's Camilla, and participating in makeup crew in GCC theater), and if my insides aren't always put together, my outsides can be. Furthermore, I believe there is a great deal of dignity in maintaining one's appearance, and wearing makeup and classy clothes is part of the joy of being a well-put-together woman.

What do you think? Girls, does makeup suck sometimes? But doesn't it give you a rush of wellbeing and self-confidence when it's done right? Does it lend to a self-materialism where we try to hide our metaphysical blemishes? Does it enforce the good aspects of beauty and responsibility and self-care? Why do girls have such internal and external pressure to give such focused attention to their skin and appearance and guys don't?

And guys, how does shaving and masculine skin care compare? Do you think the world judges you, and that you should therefore judge yourselves, for having a beard, or blemishes? Do you ever wish you could conceal little imperfections? Do you conceal little imperfections?

Go on. True confessions.

The Millstone

Okay, ladies. I've been talking to a lot of us recently, and reading a lot of our blogs, and going through this myself, so I thought I'd dedicate a post to it.

We've had discussions of the Pseudo-Boyfriend. We've had discussions of the "Just Friend." The Mr. Right Now. I propose another category of male friendship/relationship: The Millstone.

This is the guy who's a step beyond the Pseudo-Boyfriend. This is the guy who keeps you around for inexplicable purposes, one of which is to tell you all about his current crushes, and this is the guy for whom you're "holding out."

If he'd just wake up, we say. Some day he's going to come to his senses and realize that I'm amazing and wonderful and perfect for him. If I can just hang on and try to sway him with my friendship and unswerving support and devotion, I'll outlast all his little fancies for those other [hot][skinny][shallow][vapid][expensively dressed] girls and he'll just HAVE to be with me.

So we linger after him. We take all of his calls. We have frequent late-night conversations where we pretend to be supportive of his newest relationship while inwardly we're gritting our teeth and trying not to cry, Not again! We exist on the hope that he'll break up with his girlfriend someday.

Why? Because, as my current boss puts it, we feel the magic. The times with him are so good. So wholesome and fulfilling. His conversations are interesting. He covets our company. He's jealous when we think about dating someone else. He likes to keep us to himself. He likes to spend time alone with us. Deep down under his current relationship with some other girl, he really loves and cares about us, we just know it -- it's there in every intonation he utters and every little caress he dishes out -- and we're sure it's going to work out.

And we know him so well. We know the contents of his refrigerator. We know the way he scratches his ankles or rubs the back of his neck when he's stressed. We know his schedule and his social calendar (even if we don't often appear on them), we know his favorite phrases and verbal foibles, his stories and jokes, the food he hates, his shoe size. We can remind him of his various responsibilities which he might forget. We know every little detail of his past and present relationships. Not only do we know his birthday, we know his girlfriend's too. When he's bored, stressed, sick, or upset, we're right there to encourage and comfort him. We're the first person he calls when something awful happens. We know exactly how he reacts to every situation, and we know how to respond to him when he's happy, sad, angry, lonely, heartbroken, or indifferent. We know his aspirations and fears, his dreams and doubts. We can pick out the perfect birthday, Christmas, or no-reason gift for him. We're intimate with his family history, know about all of his sports accidents and scars, are familiar with his finances, and keep close track of all his hobbies. We delight in making sacrifices for him. We give, and give, and give.

We're his mother.

I had a wake-up call this past week, and I've spent some time pondering carefully. I have a guy whom up till now I would have categorized as a close friend, and who has told me repeatedly that I'm one of his best friends and how much he loves me. But the problem is, he's never interested in me as more than that. And, a wise man told me point blank last week, he never will be.

"Sarah, if in two weeks he's still whining about another girl, and if in a month of hanging out with you you're not the only flower in his garden, he doesn't love you and he never will. And even if you do catch him, he won't be faithful," said my boss.

He also said that I need to be with a guy to whom I am a queen in his eyes, because that's the only way I'll be satisfied, and because I deserve it. He said that it won't take much time, if the magic is there on both sides. Not much time at all. But if the magic is only one-sided, nothing will ever happen, or satisfy me if it does.

And he's right. It was a rather evening-crippling blow, but after facing the realization, I thought, yes. There's no reason to hold out any longer (and it's been six months. Half a year of agonizing, waiting, praying, hoping). I'm never going to get what I want from this guy. I can't pretend to be satisfied with his friendship (which can be pretty crappy, to be honest. I've given far more than I've gotten, and there comes a point where you can't attribute it to his going through a rough time).

So why is this kind of man a Millstone? Because while we're hanging onto him, we can't imagine being with anyone else. He's the only flower in OUR garden. We try dating a different guy here and there, but we're just not interested. And there's the real risk that if Mr. Amazing walks into our lives while we're dangling after the Millstone, we won't notice him. Our hearts are tied up. Or, even worse, Mr. Amazing will think we're dating the Millstone, since we go everywhere with him and spend so much time with him, and Mr. Amazing will never even bother to ask us out, because he thinks we're already officially taken. And so the Millstone hangs around the necks of our future relationships with guys who WILL notice us and treat us well.

And why do most of us have, at some point in our lives, a Millstone? I think because we're getting older. We're tired of being single. The garden is pretty much dead or hibernating under a blanket of snow. And here is someone who appears to care about us and covet our time. He's company. We feel the magic when we're around him. We love his compliments, his touches, his smile. Time spent with him is charged with a richness that time spent without him lacks. But in the end, we're nothing to him. He's Just Not That Into Us. We're something to fill an empty evening, or assuage a damaged ego, or distract from girlfriend troubles. He loves our steadiness and constancy and excellent advice and sympathy, but he uses it. Somewhere deep down he knows we love him THAT WAY, and it makes him feel good about himself and he wants to keep us around, but he'll never reciprocate.

And it's hard, so hard, to stand up straight and cut the cords of the Millstone from around our necks. It's difficult to carry, but it's comforting too. We don't want to lose him, or face the possibility (the reality) that he's not The One. But at some point, if we're to retain our sanity and belief in our own worth, it has to be done.

We can throw the Millstone into the sea without being attached to it. Sure, our muscles will ache afterward from heaving the weight -- we might even tear a muscle or two -- but the soreness will ease, and in the end we'll be free. Free to maintain our integrity and self-worth, and free to meet Mr. Right when he finally does come along.