file0001276626853Dear girls,

You don’t know me. I don’t know you.

I saw you come in and sit down in front of me, smiling and hugging each other, looking around the sanctuary for familiar faces. During the greeting break you shook my hand, we exchanged a few words; maybe ‘Hello, how are you?’ or ‘What’s your name?’

You are all very pretty. Beautiful, actually: tall, thin, with good hair, nicely styled. Your makeup is perfect, even if you don’t think so. You are quite a good-looking trio.

I don’t make a habit of watching people, nor critiquing people’s attire. You, however – I couldn’t help but notice. After the sermon, as you walked out the door, I wish I had touched your arm and spoken.

I wish I had thanked you.

There’s something else you don’t know – other than me, that is. You don’t know that this Sunday there was a young man sitting behind you; a young man who desperately needs Jesus. I’ve been praying for him for months and it’s a miracle he was even in church today.

He probably didn’t come to church looking for Jesus. He likely came for a pew like yours – a pew of girls. But you provided him no distraction.

Every one of you was attractive. Every one of you could have advertised that attractiveness with what you wore, drawing attention to the shape of your waist, your curves, or the length of your legs. But you didn’t.

When you worshiped God in front of me and the young man behind you, the most prominent visual of your character was your heart for God. When this young man may have been looking for a distraction, he couldn’t find it with you. Because your heart for God was reflected in your dress, he heard the sermon clearly: a sermon I had been praying he would hear.

You don’t know what kind of man he is. You don’t know the things he would think and say about you later, if you had been more concerned about trend-setting than representing your God. But I know what he would have said. I also know he would not have been as focused on the message I had begged God to speak into his life.

So girls – thank you. Thank you for reflecting Christ in the simplest of ways.

Thank you for preserving your beauty for better eyes than the ones behind you today.

Thank you for protecting a searching man from finding solace in distraction.

Thank you for worshiping God in little actions, not just praise songs and sermon notes.

You may never know how that choice influenced a young man’s walk with God. Perhaps he will still resist God’s grace – but he heard the message loud and clear, and you were a part of that. You chose to be a part of God’s mission to reach this man when you chose to honor God with your dress.

And I am so grateful to you.

NOTE: When this post first went viral, what was intended as a way to thank three girls was twisted into a ‘rape-culture’ agenda. This accusation is not only completely false, but ridiculously illogical. This post is not ‘slut shaming’. I can’t ‘slut shame’: I can’t MAKE someone ashamed. Shame comes from a consciousness of something a person has done wrong. By nature, slut-shaming is an oxymoron. Those who call me a ‘slut shamer’ are trying to put the discomfort they feel back on me. They are avoiding responsibility for their actions, for which I am neither responsible nor accountable.  So before labeling me a ‘slut shamer’ – take a look at my posts ‘Virginity is Not God’s Goal’ and ‘Does God Forgive Sexual Sin?‘. God offers hope to those the world calls ‘sluts’.

Other Posts:

I Waited Until My Wedding to Lose My Virginity and It’s the Best Thing I Ever Did

Why We Should Stop Asking “How Far Is Too Far?”

Guarding Hearts, Kissing Frogs and Other Dating Mistakes We’re Making

Does God Forgive Sexual Sin?

The Other Virgin Diaries