About a month ago, I posted a link on Facebook to this blog post by John Shore (who’s become one of my favorite Christian bloggers, check him out). It’s a letter from a Christian woman who grew up with the normal American Christian view of premarital sex and abstinence and sexuality, who, once she got married, realized that her sexuality was completely screwed (pun intended). I posted the article because it resonated with me. I felt like it was kind of telling my story. I ended up getting in a small discussion about with with a friend—about how we weren’t completely satisfied with Mr. Shore’s conclusions, but were definitely not satisfied by the way we normally do things as Christians in this culture.

Here’s my story in a nutshell:

I grew up in the church. Went to a Christian school. Frequented youth groups.
I learned that God is against “premarital sex”.
I saved myself for marriage.
I expected married sexuality to be totally awesome and perfect, based on these previous facts.

Well, it’s been a challenge, as you can imagine.

Let me preface all of this by saying that I enjoy sex with my wife. A lot. And I also have no problems with someone keeping their virginity until marriage—in fact, I believe its preferable. I think that the idea that I am (as far as I’m concerned) going to have sex with one person for the rest of my life exciting and incredibly special.

I also should say I’m writing this from the perspective of a straight Christian man. Who lived through all of the Promise Keepers and purity movements and all of that stuff in the 90s, so I can’t really speak from any other perspective.

Back to my story. I mentioned that I learned that God is against “premarital sex.” That’s where the issue starts. For one, I think that the way the Bible is used to “prove” that sex outside the confines of marriage (which is a really shitty way of talking about marriage in my opinion) is not God’s desire for us is shaky at best, and two, I believe that what is really implied in our culture is that God is against all premarital sexuality.

Coming into marriage, my mind, body, and heart were all trained to believe that sexual anything was evil. And I’m not just talking about going around and having sex, or looking at pornography, or checking out every other girl’s hind-quarters. I’m talking about coming to terms with who I am sexually. Understanding what makes me tick. What attracts me. What “turns me on.” What I have to look forward  to, so I know who to look for. 

Newsflash: we are (incredibly) sexual beings. Our sexuality is a gift. Our sexuality is an amazing, beautiful creation of the Most High God.

Looking back on my time as a Christian youth, if I would have had people I looked up to telling me that the way seeing that beautiful girl makes me feel physically and emotionally was not only good but God-ordained, I believe my personal issues with lust and pornography addiction would have been much less pervasive in my life. I believe that if I went into my marriage bed not just telling myself that sex with my wife is special and beautiful, but actually knowing that it would be, because our sexuality was already special and beautiful, many of the sexual issues that still plague us five years in would be much less pervasive.

Instead, I went into marriage thinking that sex was a light switch that flipped between “evil” and “perfect.”

I think its funny that the most-used Christianese word when we talk about sexuality is “brokenness.” Because it’s true. Our sexuality is so fragile.

Our sexuality is not evil.
Our sexual orientation is not evil.
Our sexual desires are not evil.

It’s created by God. And it’s really fragile. We like to use all of these Bible verses to speak against sexuality in general, or same-sex relationships, or to keep oppressing our own sexual desires—all in the name of purity. But if we step back and look at the bigger picture, the various authors of the Scriptures are, in my opinion, not implying specific sexual acts, but revealing an overarching narrative that our sexuality is not something to just throw around. It’s fragile. It’s easily broken.

I believe we have a chance to really change how we Christians come across on the issue of sexuality. I believe we can shift from prude religious assholes to agents of sexual restoration.

God wants to redeem our sexuality. God wants to be an intimate part of how we view ourselves from a sexual perspective. I believe we need to teach our children to invite God into their sexuality from an early age—instead of instilling in them that God is sitting there watching them explore their sexuality, shaking his head and pointing his finger at that red door that says “HELL”.

I believe that we need to tell our children from the moment they understand our words that they are beautiful creations of a loving God, that they were created just they way they are, and that their identity is found in Christ and being His image—not in who they give their bodies to.

And I believe that we need to have honest conversations with our children along the way about sexuality instead of spewing the same trite cultural Christian answers at them. We need to discuss the fragility of our sexuality. It’s too easy (and wrong) to just say “Sex is bad. Don’t do it. Until you are married, of course.”