Free Rapture Practice by Aaron Hartzler

noticed the gold ring on my left hand.
    “Yeah,” I say. “It’s supposed to remind me not to do anything impure with girls.”
    Jason wipes his eyes, and nods. “Well… that’s cool, man. I mean, I guess that’s a good thing.”
    Conversations about sex always take this weird turn with Jason. He’s had sex, but he wasn’t supposed to, and somehow feels he has to encourage me not to do it before I’m married, either. Technically, he’s doing the right thing—the thing my parents would want him to do. The rules at the Bible college and my Christian high school are the same: If it comes out that you’ve been having sex, you get kicked out. Every once in a while somebody gets kicked out for getting pregnant, or getting someone pregnant. The message is always made clear: God will forgive these individuals if they repent, but they cannever be virgins again. There’s a great sadness around the loss of virginity, the loss of a potential intimacy with one’s future spouse. As Dad says, “If you disobey God’s plan by not waiting for marriage, you’ll never know the special joys of only having been intimate with one other person.”
    The funny thing is, when I look at Jason, I want to be just like him. I don’t feel like it’s a sad thing that he’s not a virgin. I don’t think he does, either. I feel like he’s part of a cool club I’m not supposed to want to join. Of course, I’ve never even had the opportunity to join it. I’ve hardly even come close. I kissed a girl who was working in the camp kitchen while we were at Timberlake last summer, but only once, and that was the week that my parents showed up to take me home.
    I left camp last summer in a hurry. Right before the last two weeks, my parents arrived unannounced. They were
concerned
. I’d been too hard to get in touch with, and there were rumors I was running around with some college students of questionable integrity. I hadn’t saved a cent of the money I’d been earning, and they’d heard about the magnetic earrings Jason and I had worn back to camp one weekend.
    They didn’t ask me if I wanted to leave; they simply announced they were taking me home. So I packed my stuff and climbed into the car. It wasn’t up for discussion—just like the ring they gave me last week.
    The ring itself doesn’t bother me. It’s not like I’m getting lots of offers to rush out and have sex. Even if I was, I’m not certain I would want to. Still, there’s an annoying thought that buzzes my ears like a mosquito each time I glance downat my left ring finger. Whether or not I will wait to have sex until I am married was never up for discussion.
    There’s something I’ve heard countless times at church and my Christian school since I was a little boy: “God says it. I believe it. That settles it.” I know my feelings about issues like this don’t change the truth of God’s word—or Mom and Dad’s opinion about what’s best for me. I feel like I have no power, no control. I look around the cafeteria and realize none of these Bible college students is supposed to have sex before marriage, either. We’re all saving ourselves, and cheerful about it. As I look around the room, I can’t shake the feeling that I have no power over some very basic things. It feels like ankle-deep mud sucking at my sneakers. I’d probably agree I’m not ready to have sex yet, but it sure would be nice to be asked if I was.
    After we’re done eating in the cafeteria, Jason and I check movie times and drive to a theater across town from the Bible college. There’s a mall with a theater nearby, but we skip it. Jason isn’t supposed to go to movies, either, during the semester, and we don’t want to risk running into anybody we know headed to Banana Republic while we’re at the ticket window.
    Jason and I went to at least one movie every weekend last summer, and sometimes we’d see two or three. I’ve seen several more with him since we’ve been back from camp. I