What has happened in the house of God to make people think it is no different than the back row of the movie theatre??? Did I miss the memo that notified the congregation that any and all forms of macking are totally appropriate nowadays? I know it’s been a while since I’ve been to church (shame on me) but at least when I go, I don’t canoodle with my neighbor the entire time.
Ahem, sorry about that. I got the cart ahead of the horse there for a second. Let’s rewind.
This morning at the 11:00 service, I had the worst seat in the house. Right behind a couple that had a terrifyingly strong magnetic force between them, preventing them from behaving appropriately in church. It started during worship, which was early in the service. Let me clarify that at OUR church, at this particular juncture in the service, we are to direct our worship to CHRIST, not to our clearly sexually-frustrated significant other. HOWEVER, the love bugs DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF ME spent the better portion of the 10 minute music set pulling each other closer and closer. I will admit, it was mostly the guy (sorry, but when is it not?) that was doing the groping and rubbing. And I swear on my life, she must have been wearing 16 forms of various zip-up shirts because she kept STRIPPING!! It was like, every 5 minutes, she would remove another article of clothing, and well, it pretty much goes without saying that as her clothes came off, his hands went more and more crazy. And during some seriously worshipful songs, his hand was wandering dangerously south of the border, and ironically enough, the lyrics were “we lift up our hands in praise”.
Uhh…. your hands should be ashamed of the extreme lack of lifting-up-in-praise that is going on, young man.
Once we shook hands and greeted one another (and I Purelled IMMEDIATELY because ICKY ICKY ICKY if your hands were on her BUTT during worship, I don’t want to have anything transferred to MY hands from your pre-church activities), they began the back-of-movie-theatre antics.
The back rubbing, the hair twirling, the blatant leaning over and kissing each other, the secret swapping, the giggling…. At one point, she thought it would be super hilarious to take her pen (which should’ve been used for TAKING THOROUGH NOTES YOUNG LADY) and make some sort of inscription on his face. I’m sorry, are we three years old? (Actually, they were somewhere between Maddie’s age and mine, so OLD ENOUGH TO KNOW BETTER). So like a real gem, she licked her finger and spent the next, ehhhh 90-ish seconds grooming him to remove the ink spot.
Because I’ve been in no mood for people’s crap lately, I was moments away from leaning forward after the service and just asking “Did you guys love the service? Get a lot out of it? BECAUSE I DIDN’T GET ANYTHING OUT OF IT DUE TO THE HORRIFIC DISTRACTION THAT WAS YOUR SICKENING INTIMACY! GET! A! ROOM!”
What I’m trying to say here is this: have we really lost all respect for the solemnity that is supposed to be our time with God? Is it so hard to stop the fondling for 70 minutes to hear what God might be trying to say to you? They have no idea, but their behavior in church impaired not only their ability to have open ears to the well thought and prepared (I mean, I assume, because I couldn’t focus of course) service, but it impaired others around them. So, what’s it going to take?
Moral of the story: if you are a church-goer and have decided to incorporate that into your relationship with your significant other, that’s wonderful. But be cognizant of the fact that there are certain boundaries. By allowing that young man to twist her hair, plant a million kisses on her cheek, and practically nuzzle her bosom at one point (I am so not being sarcastic, ask my mom) she was distracting him from the word of God. I don’t care if it was uninvited, it was allowed; she didn’t tell him to stop, and so, she encouraged the behavior.
If they were my children… Lord have mercy. I would break his wrist and spank her bottom so hard she wouldn’t want another hand on it for the rest of eternity. And that’s why my children won’t date until I’m dead.