“Men Prefer Debt Free Virgins (Without Tattoos)” surfaced a few days ago and since it’s already taking over the internet, I thought it timely to share my experience as a case study in debt-free virginhood. Before I met and married my husband, I was a debt-free virgin (without tattoos, which seems to be an important point, though I have yet to see its connection). Not only that, I met other criteria the article would applaud:
I know where you are because I’m there, too.
Dear girl,
I see you. I see you scouring the internet for articles telling you that what you’re doing isn’t wrong, that you shouldn’t feel guilty, everyone does it, you’re fine. You’ve found plenty to support what you want to hear, but somehow none say it in a way that really puts you at ease.
Dear church, you’re wrong about sex.
Not all the time – but a lot of the time. There’s been some truth sprinkled here and there. There’ve been some speakers and ministries who’ve done this tender topic the justice it deserves. But in general, the sexual narrative Christian women have heard over the last four decades is not one of gospel freedom. It is a message burdened by fear, guilt, shame, and legalism – sometimes all of these at once. It’s why Christian girls are done with courtship culture. It’s why many are fleeing legalism and others flee the church. Through one ear, women are being taught about the love and grace of Jesus Christ, while into the other pour proof-texted, fear-based half-truths about female sexuality.
I wore this today because I’m insecure.
I looked in the mirror and the mirror told me lies. But I believe it, because it’s all I’ve ever known.
You’re not enough. You’re not attractive. You’re unloveable.
I wore this today because I want attention.
I looked in a magazine and the magazine lied. But I believe it, because it says I can be confident.
Show off your body. Make them look. Make them jealous.
This weekend I read Maddi Runkles’ story: How she discovered she was pregnant her senior year of high school, confessed to her school, and consequential to the sexual sin that caused the pregnancy was not allowed to attend classes or walk in their graduation (though she did receive a diploma). I then read the statement by Heritage Academy – why they dealt with a pregnant student in the manner they did.
Biblical sexuality is a topic shrouded by confusion. A lot of black and white lines are drawn in places that often feel very… gray. Pursuing biblical sexuality isn’t as simple as not having sex before marriage, either; biblical sexuality is the active pursuit of God’s ultimate intention for our lives. What is that intention? Holiness! It is holiness that keeps us in relationship with Him – a holiness bought by Christ and maintained by the Holy Spirit, for whom our bodies are temples. This is why sexual sin is so grievous, and why biblical sexuality is such a worthy pursuit.
“Is lingerie sinful?”
“What is oral sex?”
“How do I get over my husband’s sexual history?”
These questions have a common denominator: many of their authors never received a sex talk. If they did, it was insufficient or laced with the influence of cultural worldviews. Our Christian young women are seeking answers about their sexuality.
The world is ready to give them what they want.
We need to reach them first.
Christians are already being sexually discipled – by the world. Young women learn about sex from Cosmo magazine, novels, and girl’s nights. Young men are exposed to pornography at as young as eight years old. Sexual addictions and perversions are as present in the church as they are in our culture, but no one wants to speak up because of the shame.
We’ve been taught to run from our sexuality.
Good Christian girls don’t talk about it; they aren’t even sure what to do with it. We know sex is for marriage, but what do you do before marriage? What do you do with these desires?
I can tell you one thing NOT to do: run from it. We need to stop running from our sexuality. I’m not talking about sexual sin or temptation; I’m talking about sexuality itself – our capacity for desire, the foundation of marital intimacy. Our sexual selves don’t suddenly “turn on” once we say “I do”. Our sexuality is part of our identities.
I invited Jesus to my lingerie shower.
He attended, no questions asked.
In the jokes and the gifts and the lace, His presence was real. He didn’t look like Himself, of course – His face was the face of my friends, the women who love Him and love me. But Jesus was there, right in the middle of our raucous laughter and our innuendoes about marital sex. He saw the joy, the anticipation, and the love of the women around me – women celebrating the sexuality He designed.