Hallowed Sister

"But.... But...." Shelly stammered. "You just said that you didn't purposely show me your junk...."

"That's right, I didn't purposely show you my penis, if we're going to have a serious talk like adults. And yes, I'm the one that started out calling it junk...."

Shelly smiled, then reached out to lay her hand across mine. "It's not junk at all," she said quietly.

I returned her smile. "Be that as it may," I said, "It was in a reduced state for a reason. And you're exactly right as to why. I had just had an orgasm, which leaves it in a completely deflated state."

"So...." she began. "So I was right...."

"Yes. And that may be what was on my mind when I asked God for forgiveness for my trespasses."

"You were obviously alone in the shower. And you had just had an orgasm...."

"If you're going to make me say it.... I was masturbating."

"Is -- is masturbation a sin?" she asked. "I mean, did you really need forgiveness?"

"I -- I don't fully know whether it's necessarily a sin. I've studied the Bible and I don't actually think that the physical act is sinful. But the mental images that accompany it might well be sinful."

"Mental images?" she asked.

"Yeah, y'know -- thoughts that get you aroused, so that you can actually -- masturbate," I replied.

"And, um, what were you thinking about?"

Ugh. Didn't want to go there.

"Shelly... Sis... Please don't make me say."

Shelly grinned a megawatt smile.

"So... it's true."

"What's true?" I asked.

"When you called out my name... It wasn't... it wasn't because you heard me in the room."

"Um... no, Shel. No, I didn't hear you until after."

"After -- your orgasm? But you definitely called out my name from the shower...."

"Yeah, I did," I admitted.

Shelly lifted her hand from mine and touched my face.

"Truth, Steve. You called out my name when you were having an orgasm?"

My face burned with shame. But there was no condemnation in her voice -- just a sincere question.

"Truth? Yes, Shelly, I was thinking of you when I came. You're the mental image that I conjured up to masturbate to...."

"And you think you need to be forgiven for that?" she asked, quirking her eyebrow at me inquisitively, not in anger, frustration or judgment.

"Jesus talked about lusting after a woman -- not just the physical act of adultery, but the mental image...."

"You -- you lust after me? Moi?"

"Yes, you, Shelly -- only you. Whenever... whenever I... I masturbate. But not just then. I always think of you as more than just my sister...."

There. I'd said it. Revolting as it surely must be to her. But she only smiled at me.

"Steve, I have a confession to make."

"Yeah, Sis?"

"Well, Steve... I masturbate, too."

"You... you do?" I don't know if I was truly surprised. After all, they say that everybody does it. Even sweet, innocent Christian girls.

"Yes. And I... I don't feel guilty about it."

"So you can do it without the... the mental images?" I asked.

Shelly averted her gaze from mine, and removed her hand from my face.

"Well, in all honesty... not exactly."

"So how do you get past the idea that it's sinful?"

"Because... because I love the person I'm thinking about."

A stab of jealousy pierced my heart. I clenched my fists below the table so she couldn't see my rage. I wanted to pound the poor fellow who had stolen my sister's heart. But I managed to calm myself and pursue the line of questioning. Unlike a good lawyer, I was willing to ask questions for which I might not want to know the answers.

"So, if you love him, it's not a sin to think of him lustfully?"

"Not if I'm committed to him. Like, for life."

"You mean -- you're planning to marry him?" I was devastated.

"Um, Steve -- it's complicated...." she answered.

Just then, the front door to the house slammed shut.

"Kiddos -- I'm ho-ome!" Mom's gleeful voice shouted from the living room.

Shelly grimaced. "I'll explain later, Steve."

My heart sunk to my stomach as we stood and went to the living room to welcome our mother with the hugs she always craved.

* * * * * *

That night, I opened my Bible and silently asked God for guidance and wisdom. I needed to know why I had these longings for my sister, and whether I was truly committing a sin by thinking of her that way. By wanting more.

Shelly had mentioned that she didn't believe in coincidences or fortune -- that my shriveled-dick appearance in the bathroom might not have been "unfortunate." But what possible reason could there be for it? What possible good could come from it? Only God knows.

I only knew that I was heartbroken that my sister had met some guy that she wanted to marry. I hadn't even known she had a boyfriend. Maybe -- maybe she didn't. Maybe she longed after him from afar, and he didn't even know she thought of him that way. That would explain his absence from the scene. Still, it was strange that she could feel so committed to him if that were the case....

I suddenly remembered a passage in the first book of the Bible that I wanted to look up. It involved Abraham, the father of "God's people" -- first, the physical descendants of Abraham, and then later, the spiritual descendants: the entire population of God-followers.

After some searching through Genesis, I stumbled upon the story of Abraham's sojourn with his wife, Sarah (originally Sarai). As I read, it dawned on me that Sarah wasn't just his wife. She was his sister, too. Well, his half-sister, at least.

Holy smokes, I thought. What are you showing me, Lord?

In the story, as they entered new lands, Abraham feared that the foreigners would kill him if they knew that Sarah was his wife. She was beautiful and they would surely want her. So, he told them she was his sister -- which was true, but it was not the entire truth.

Sarah was upset with Abraham for not telling them that she was his wife. After all, she didn't want them making advances on her. In Genesis 20: 11-12, Abraham tried to explain his reasoning to her: "I said to myself, 'There is surely no fear of God in this place, and they will kill me because of my wife.' Besides, she really is my sister, the daughter of my father though not of my mother; and she became my wife."

She really is my sister.... Huh. I'd really never thought much about it before. But now I was thinking.

I suddenly remembered another passage about a sister -- one that had a tragic ending. One of King David's sons, Absalom, had killed his brother Amnon because Amnon had raped their sister Tamar. But, if I remembered correctly, the issue was the rape, not that he loved his sister in a very unsisterly way. I leafed through my Bible, over to the book of 2^nd Samuel. In the 13^th chapter, I found the passage I was looking for:

Amnon became so obsessed with his sister Tamar that he made himself ill. She was a virgin, and it seemed impossible for him to do anything to her....

So Amnon lay down and pretended to be ill. When king David came to see him, Amnon said to him, "I would like my sister Tamar to come and make some special bread in my sight, so I may eat from her hand."

But when she took it to him to eat, he grabbed her and said, "Come to bed with me, my sister."

"No, my brother!" she said to him. "Don't force me! Such a thing should not be done in Israel! Don't do this wicked thing... Please speak to the king; he will not keep me from being married to you." But he refused to listen to her, and since he was stronger than she, he raped her.

Please speak to the king; he will not keep me from being married to you.... So, I indeed remembered it correctly. King David, whom the Bible repeatedly refers to as "a man after God's own heart," would not have kept Amnon from marrying his sister Tamar....

Pastor Ralph had told me to search the scriptures and God would help me find the answers to the difficult issue of the youth group hosting a haunted house. Was God similarly showing me the answers to the difficult issue of my longing after my sister?

Ralph had differentiated between contextual issues and eternal truths. In the context of today's society, loving my sister as a wife was definitely taboo. Probably even illegal. For sure, the state would never license us to marry. But was the separation between sister and wife to be an eternal truth? If so, why is it so clear that Abraham, the spiritual father of all believers, married his sister? Or that David, a man after God's own heart, would surely have allowed his son Amnon to marry his sister Tamar?

But even so, it didn't matter. Shelly's heart was obviously taken already by someone she ultimately wanted to marry. Someone who was the object of her thoughts as she masturbated. Even if he didn't necessarily know it yet. My fists began to clench and flex again. As much as the Bible called upon me not to hate, I truly hated this guy.

As I pondered these things, there was a knock at my door.

"Who is it?" I called out.

"It's me, Steve -- Shelly. Can I come in?"

"Sure."

The door opened slowly, and Shelly peered around the edge cautiously. Almost stealthily. She looked all around me -- side to side, up and down -- before fixing her gaze on mine.

"I.... I wasn't sure what you'd be doing," she explained. "Thought you might be masturbating," she said with a sheepish grin.

I rolled my eyes at her lame joke. "It's not like I do that all the time, Sis...."

"I can see I was plainly mistaken," she said, waving her hand with a grandiose gesture at the open Bible on my desk. "So what'cha doin', dear brother of mine?"

"Um.... Research. I mean, like, trying to figure some things out. From the Bible."

"Like, about your masturbation guilt?" She walked toward me, standing over me as a remained seated in my desk chair.

"Well, yeah, kinda...." I said weakly.

"And.... What have you -- found?" she inquired. She placed an affectionate hand on my shoulder in a display of support.

"Well, not to go back over ground we've already covered, but I think it's really about the mental images. That's where the sin comes in."

"And you -- you always think of me...." Shelly's voice was low, a husky whisper.

Gulp. "Yes, that's right, Sis. Please forgive me...."

"Well, Steve -- we got interrupted earlier. I didn't finish my confession." She sat down on the end of the bed, beside my desk chair.

"You -- you had.... had started talking about that guy you want to marry," I said, the pain straining my voice. "That it's okay to think of him when you masturbate, since you plan to marry him."

I felt a tear slipping down my face, latching onto my nostril momentarily before splattering on my desk. Shelly tenderly wiped the rivulet from my cheek.

"I didn't say I plan to marry him. I said it's complicated. I don't think -- I don't think I can actually marry him...."

"But -- why not?" I asked, louder than I intended. I was both relieved and puzzled.

"Because... because even though we love each other desperately, I don't know of any jurisdictions where we could legally marry. But, like I said, it's complicated. Marriage isn't just a legal concept. It's a spiritual commitment...."

"You -- couldn't legally marry? Why not?" I was incredulous.

"Steve -- dear brother of mine -- are you really that dense?"

She smiled a dazzling smile, then leaned her face toward mine.

I rolled my desk chair back away from her momentarily, not sure what was going on.

Shelly leaned over toward me from the edge of the bed -- my, oh my, her white tank top hugged her breasts deliciously -- and picked up my open Bible.

"I see you're in the 13^th chapter of 2^nd Samuel, Steve."

"Um -- that's right, Shel."

"Where Amnon rapes his sister, Tamar?"

Busted again!

"Um, yep, Sis...."

"Steve, you're not planning to rape me, are you?"

"What??? No way, Shel, I would never, ever hurt you!"

"I didn't think so. But you do fantasize about me to make yourself ejaculate when you masturbate?"

"But that's different than rape. I love you, Shelly -- I truly love you. More than just as a brother. As a man. I want to be with you, always and forever."

"Exactly. And that's why it's okay."

"You mean -- you're not grossed out? You don't hate me?"

"No, Steve," she answered, a smile tugging at her lips. "I could never hate you. You're my brother. And I am not grossed out."

"Why -- why not?" I asked.

"Because I love you the same way. As a woman, I mean."

"But -- what about the guy you want to marry? The one you think about when you masturbate?"

Shelly laughed, a hearty laugh from deep in her belly. Tears began streaming down her face. Her shoulders were shaking uncontrollably in the midst of her giggle fit.

"You're going to make me pee!" she shouted.

"But -- what's so funny?" I asked. And then it hit me. "Wait a minute -- you love me like I love you?"

"Yes, dear brother of mine. I am hopelessly devoted to you."

"And -- there is no other guy?"

"Exactly. You are the one that I conjure up when I masturbate. You are the one that I'm in love with. And you are the one that makes things complicated."

I rolled my chair in toward her, reaching in for a brotherly hug like we'd shared hundreds of times before. She leaned into me, accepting my hug unconditionally.

When our hug became awkwardly long, uncertain as to its role between siblings or lovers, we each released the other. Shelly stood and took my hand. I rose in front of her and gazed into her emerald depths. She smiled comfortably at me, and our hug resumed. But it made a choice: the sibling role was relinquished. And then my dormant dick developed a mind of its own, pushing into her belly. I started to back away, but Shelly pulled herself flush against me.

"I'm sorry, Shel -- I can't help it," I said, referring to the elephant in the room.

"And neither can I," she answered. "But it feels good. Can it be so wrong?"

"Well, uh -- actually, maybe not. I was searching the scriptures for a reason, Sis. And trying to do it with an open mind and open heart, not simply to justify what I've been feeling."

"And you landed on the passage about Amnon raping his sister Tamar?"

"Well, uh -- the rape was definitely wrong. Non-consensual sex is never right. But it's clear from the scripture that if it had been consensual, they could have been married. And it's clear in Genesis that Abraham was married to his sister, Sarah. Well, half-sister."

Shelly hugged me closer and looked up into my eyes.

"Steve, are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"If you think I'm saying that I want to marry you -- yes. At least spiritually, as a lifelong commitment, even if it's not possible to marry you legally."

In response, Shelly put her hand behind my head and pulled my face gently down toward hers. She pressed her lips to mine, tentatively at first, then deepening with a sense of urgency. Her tongue slipped into my mouth, and I slid my tongue against hers. My dear, sweet, beautiful, loving sister -- how I love you! My burgeoning dick found its way to the crotch of her track pants, and she hoisted herself up to my abdomen, straddling me as I held her up. My hands began to massage her rounded, taut buttocks. I was overwhelmed with the confluence of love and desire....

"Shelly! Shelly, where are you???" Mom's voice drifted down the hallway from outside Shelly's bedroom.

Shelly jumped down from my midriff and straightened her hair, her track pants, and her tank top.

"I'm right here, Mom! I was just talking with Steve...."

She opened my bedroom door and smiled down the hall at Mom.

Mom met her at the doorway and poked her head into my room. She looked at my Bible and books spread across my desk.

"Ah, Bible study time. Good to see, Steve," Mom said.

"Yep, good to get some answers," I said giddily. "Really good."

"That's so nice," said Mom.

If you only knew, I thought.

"God is faithful," I said, sincerely thankful that He'd guided me to the answers I needed. My longing for my sister wasn't so unnatural after all. In fact, it wasn't sinful. Even better -- she loved me the same way!

"Yes, He is faithful," said Mom. "Shelly, sweetheart, I need you to come downstairs and help me out. I have to get three dozen cookies made for my kindergarten kids for tomorrow, and your cookies are so good. Of course, they must be nut-free, but we can adapt your recipe...."

Shelly wrinkled her nose and looked at me with a sad, upside-down smile.

"I guess we're done, Steve -- for now." She blew a kiss in my direction.

I smiled and blew a kiss back to her. For now, indeed.

* * * * * *

The next morning, Mom cooked some maple-flavored bacon while I made pancakes. Shelly fixed the coffee and set the table, and we all sat down to eat together.

"So, Steve," asked Mom, "what sort of Bible studies have you been doing lately?"

I nearly spit my coffee out. Shelly grinned at me and pointed a taunting finger.

"Um, well...." My mind raced. And then something truthful but diversionary bounced into my brain. "I, uh, I've been trying to figure out this haunted house thing...."

"Don't even get me started!" Shelly snapped.

"Sorry, Sis," I apologized, "but it's not what you think...."

"So -- what is it?" she asked.

"Well, I haven't found a definitive answer. The Bible doesn't specifically mention haunted houses. But I've discovered some principles."

"The man has found some principles! I raised him right!" Mom laughed, raising her hands above her head in a goofy cheer.

Shaking my head at her and smiling, I continued. "I think the key principle is to not cause my brother to stumble. Or in this case, my sister."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you, kiddo."

"I've told you, I'm not a kid. I'm a woman."

I fixed a gaze on her breasts pointedly, deliberately making both her and Mom uncomfortable. Mom even slapped my hand playfully.

"You are indeed that, Shel," I admitted. "But that's not the point."

"So get to the point," Mom said, pouring herself a second cup of coffee.

"When Paul talked about not causing others to stumble, he meant that even if I don't see something as wrong, I need to pay attention to whether others see it as wrong. If they do, and they see me doing that something that they see as 'wrong' -- it might cause them to 'stumble' themselves."

"So," Shelly said, "if I think having a haunted house at the church is wrong, you're going to support me in that?"

"Indeed I am, Sis -- no questions asked. But I've had another thought that you might want to consider."

"And -- what's that?" Shelly's curiosity was genuinely piqued.

"Well, we've always talked about wanting to get more people to church," I said, "and what better way to get people from the community -- people who'd never darken the door of a church on a Sunday morning -- to come out to a fun event on Halloween night. A charity fundraiser, at that?"

Shelly contemplated for a moment. Mom looked at her, then looked back at me, shrugging her shoulders with an emphatic question mark.

"Well, Steve, you may have something there," Shelly said slowly, "but if it's only about ghosts and goblins and witches, how does that make a positive difference with visitors from the community?"

I hesitated, then recovered. "Maybe they'll see that we're a lot like them. That we can have fun, without judgment. After all, we're all sinners in need of God's grace...."