God was surprised that sex is fun.
A man in my dad’s church once spent six months building a canoe in his basement. Slowly but surely he bent each piece of wood around the smooth hull. It looked like the carcass of a strange beast when we saw it mid project, covered with dozens of vices to force a curve in the wooden ribs. He knew every inch of that boat and had dedicated hundreds of hours to it’s creation. At last, when the Massachusetts snow melted and the layer upon layer of sealant had dried, he was ready to launch it in a local river. But on the day he did, the strangest thing happened. Instead of floating peacefully on the surface of the water, the canoe lifted high into the air like a bird and flew away.
That didn’t happen. Canoes can’t fly, but that’s sometimes how I treat God and sex. I assume that when God created sex it was strictly so that we could have a way to populate the planet. It was strictly about procreation, not recreation. He, much like the canoe builder, was completely shocked when people started enjoying it and not just using it as a way to extend their family.
I’ve never actually said those words out loud, God was surprised that sex was fun, but my actions certainly yell them. For years, I’ve trusted the world’s opinion on sex.
I’ve digested the world’s definition of sex and subconsciously believed that maybe at the end of the day, Hugh Hefner invented it, not God. After all, “sexy” is not an adjective I’d use to describe Christianity. I’ve certainly never invited God into my sex life, which sounds completely creepy. But why not?
If God invented sex, then doesn’t that make him the ultimate expert? Forget the Kama Sutra. Forget Dr. Ruth. Forget the billion dollar porn industry. Those are just people on the shore describing a canoe go down the river. I’d rather ask the guy that created the canoe how to navigate the rapids and enjoy the deepest sunsets from the calmest stretches of water.