The Great Sex Rescue

The Great Sex Rescue, by Sheila Wray Gregoire

(A Book Review)

About 13 months after she’d gotten married, a close friend confided to me that she and her husband – who were both virgins prior to marriage – had settled into having sex about once a month.

Once a month? After having worked so hard at remaining a virgin during four years of dating? For real?

I was heartbroken for her. A newlywed myself, the thought of once-a-month-only sex sounded downright tragic. (I would of course come to know my own woes, down the line…)

Because I didn’t know what to say, I squeaked out a timid, “Wow,” and changed the subject. Clearly, this wasn’t going to be a topic of our day trip.

But the sadness of her revelation stuck with me, and spurred me to action. Over the course of the next several years, as more and more friends tied the knot, I appointed myself “Giver of The Talk” to the women (as if I were some kind of Masters & Johnson, dear me). All of us were from evangelical Christian backgrounds, most were virgins, and, virgin or not, everybody was nervous about how sex could/would/might/should go. Everybody wanted to get everything right, from wedding night to first baby.

So I sat down each of my friends, a few weeks before her marriage, and laid out all the things I’d wished a friend had told me. What to expect. What not to expect. Tips on attitude and tips on…well, specifics. Recommended books. Things to look forward to. Things to be prepared for. The vital importance of communication. The equally vital importance of holy selfishness.

Thank Godthere were no books on my “recommended” list like the titles that began emerging after I got married.

Thank Godthere was no Every Man’s Battle or Sheet Music or Love & Respect.

Thank God I myself didn’t grow up in a faith community that saw women’s bodies as problems….or sex as a dirty little secret…or men as sex-monsters-in-waiting.

Because if I had, I would be in a lot more need of The Great Sex Rescue. As it is, I’m super grateful that these three women wrote this book, because everywhere I’ve turned in the evangelical community in the past 20 years, I’ve heard distorted messages.

Ms. Gregoire and her co-authors offer a refreshing definition of sex, as they assert God intended it to be: personal, pleasurable (to both parties, and not just when the stars align), pure, prioritized, pressure-free, putting the other first, and passionate. (What is it with Christian teachers being unable to resist alliteration?!)

The authors conducted a survey with 20,000 women over the course of six months, and followed this with focus groups and in-depth interviews. They also read and evaluated the top 10 Christian marriage books that devote significant attention to sex. And, they read and evaluated the top secular marriage books as well.

Their book takes down the distorted, harmful messages that so much Christian literature propagates, one by one, and replaces them with the most affirming, life-giving, refreshing, soul-stirring, compassionate, and tender blessings. It includes lots of data, lots of stories from respondents, and a whole lotta quotes from the Christian books that send the distorted messages (however well-meaning). It also has an interactive section for couples at the end of each chapter, and a few points on how Christian leaders can “reframe” their language to better reflect a holistic Biblical perspective on sex.

The Great Sex Rescue includes a chapter what they call “the orgasm gap,” and insists that women’s sexual pleasure absolutely matters, and not just in name only. Another chapter addresses the message that it’s a wife’s responsibility to keep her husband from looking at porn; the chapter is entitled, powerfully, “Your spouse is not your methadone.”

More than one chapter addressed “duty sex,” the notion that women should have sex even when they don’t much want to (for a whole host of reasons). Spoiler alert: “duty sex” doesn’t have Biblical backing.

Another chapter address the idea that women should stay physically attractive so their husbands don’t cheat. I can’t even get started on that without my blood pressure rising, so….just read the book.

In fact, just read the book. You will not read it and feel stupid, or beyond hope, or insignificant, or pressured. You won’t feel like you have failed and are doomed to forever fail. This is not a book of fear and fear-based rules.

Rather, it’s refreshing. It’s affirming of women and of men. It’s life-giving. You will be told, again and again, that your needs and desires are important, that they matter, deeply, and moreover, that sex can be the great thing our good God intended.

The Great Sex Rescue offers a sweet, tender, passionate, selfless, and utterly beautiful blessing in its teaching on sex. It elevates this intimate gift of marriage to a place that you want to visit, and linger.

Men, women, mountaintops, Jesus

A blog post has been circulating among many of the women in my social network, which skews decidedly evangelical (not always the horrid version of that, currently in vogue). It’s shared as a post of encouragement, inspiration, which is clearly its original intent.

My simple summary of the original post: we women often miss the mountaintop experiences with God because, well, somebody has to stay at home and take care of the kids, the house, the bills, the garden/field, etc. But we should be encouraged, because Jesus meets us there. In the mundane, in the everyday caregiving that we do, Jesus comes to us. Take heart, therefore.

And I get it. (Cue the customary caveats.) I get the point. It has encouraging merit. “You are seen and known and remembered and met, where you are. You don’t have to work toward the mountaintop in order to meet the Lord.”

And it’s true. Jesus – so kind, so generous – does meet us wherever we are: changing a baby’s diaper or in a committee meeting or visiting a parent in a nursing home or buying candy for the neighborhood Easter egg hunt. He meets us in the mundane and everyday. If we can’t get away from our responsibilities, he meets us in the middle of them.

Yep.

BUT.

I have two questions. First, why is it we women so rarely have the transcendent metaphorical  mountaintop experiences with Jesus?

Second, doesn’t Jesus meet men in their mundane, too?

When I read a blog post like this, this is what I hear: “Hey, real sorry that you can’t ever leave home, but you should be happy, because Jesus will come to your house. Yay!”

And I want to scream. Because here’s the honest-to-God truth, and I have zero shame in saying it out loud: I WANT IT ALL.

I want to see Jesus in my mundane life…and I want to experience Jesus in the glory of a mountaintop.

I want to know his presence when I’m unloading the dishwasher and making a grocery list and taking the dog on a walk. And I do. I love the satisfaction of an empty dishwasher, and the feeling of provision I have that I can even make such a thing as a grocery list, and the giddying scent of honeysuckle as Milo and I trek to the dog park.

And I also want to know his presence on that mountaintop – I want the transcendence of the beautiful place that took honest effort to arrive at, the glory of the Lord passing by, the uplift to my soul of being fully immersed in his Spirit, no distractions, no other thought but to sit, stand, kneel, raise my hands in wonder and surrender. Oh yes, I want that, too.

Here’s the thing: I’m pretty sure Jesus wants both for me too. I was not designed – no one was designed – to spend all my days in the mundane, any more than any of us was designed to spend all our days in the transcendent mountaintop. We’re made for both. Men and women are made for both.

Ain’t it a shame that, as the blog post correctly points out, so few women get the mountaintop opportunity? And why is that? Because somebody has to take care of things back at home. You know my next question, right? Why does that have to be the women?

Like can’t we take turns? It’s really not asking that much. How about this time the daddy stays to take care of things back at home, while the mommy goes off on a spiritual mountaintop journey? (And news flash, daddies: you don’t get a bronze medal for this; it’s called just being a good partner. Additional aside: I’m married to a stellar example of this, for real.) How about this time the men put the women through seminary? How about this time the men do the food drive while the women take – or teach! – the theology course? Are we not all capable of both? Yes, we are.

On the flip side, can we point out that Jesus meets men in the mundane, too? He meets them when they’re mowing the grass, and on the morning commute to work, and at the sports bar, and while they’re shaving, and when they’re reading the news over lunch.

The truth is, Jesus always meets us where we are, whether we are male or female, whether we are slogging away in the daily or pausing on a peak.

But just because Jesus meets us wherever we are doesn’t necessarily mean we’re in the right place…or that we should stay there.

So the truth must also be that we seek him in all the places. Men, and women, in the everyday, and in the special.

Dear sisters, let us be grateful our Jesus comes to us even if we can’t go somewhere special to meet him. He is kind that way, and I am so grateful, so glad. It is the heart of the Incarnation.

But let us also seek him in the special ways and times and places. Let us run after him everywhere; he will be found.

And dear brothers (and sisters!), do not say, “Jesus can meet you gals at home, so be content.” No. Be bigger than that. Do your part to make the space, the room, the time, the active encouragement, to the women in your life to seek Jesus in the special ways and places. Wherever you have influence, use it for this good. Counter-culture the patriarchy, though it seems to benefit you.

In the end, we would all benefit – men, women, children, and the kingdom of God on earth – if there were a culture in which everybody, everywhere, got to meet Jesus everywhere.

 

Emotional labor, part deux

In yesterday’s post I made the case that women do the vast majority of the emotional labor in marriage & family: keeping track, in our heads and elsewhere, of all the relationships, household items & chores, to-do lists, and calendars involved in contemporary family life – and being primarily in charge of all of it but without rocking the emotional boat of anybody else.

I concluded with a statement that such an imbalance isn’t good for the men or children, either.

It may look like they’re winning – after all, they don’t have to remember times, dates, locations, numbers, names, or to-do lists. Easy peasy, right?

Perhaps. But “ease” does not equal “benefit.”

When my husband doesn’t have to perform this emotional labor, he actually loses. How?

• He loses a full, well-rounded knowledge of our life together.
• He loses a full, well-rounded knowledge of our children. It’s a loss to not know the names of your children’s friends, or teachers, or teammates. It’s a loss to not know about the playground drama, the science fair hard-earned success, the day-in and day-out discipline of showing up for piano/band/dance/soccer/basketball/track practice. And eventually your children get tired of having to explain all the context to Dad, so they just quit. That’s a loss.
• He loses basic knowledge of how our household runs. He doesn’t know where to find things, or the system of laundry or cleaning (because you always delegated it), or the best store for fresh produce, or how often the dog dish gets cleaned.
• He loses input into the calendar – both the mundane (the next oil change date, the next kids’ dentist visit) and the extraordinary (friends over for dinner or parties, where to stay while on vacation, and what fun things to do while there, and what friends to go visit).
• He loses the joy of having put thought, time, energy, effort, and work into a relationship or an event, and seeing it succeed – or, learning from its failure.

In short, he loses the emotional connections that make life rich. It’s not that men need to take charge of laundry (yes, I know, some already do); it’s that they need to be part of this home together.

It’s not that men should take over all homework management (and yes, again, I know some dads are super-involved in this particular arena); it’s that the bond between fathers and children is strengthened when they work together in the crucial pursuit of learning.

It’s not that men should be better at updating the family Google calendar; it’s that, as members of a family (and often enough the primary breadwinner), they are integral to the team. Right? Otherwise they’re just domesticated sugar daddies (ugh).

Do you see the pattern? It’s not the tasks – it’s the relationships the tasks involve.

We say it, don’t we? “We’re in this together.” But in practice, the girls are in charge, and the lucky ones have men who just do what they’re told or what we can nag or sweet-talk them into. How is this beneficial to either party?

We half-jokingly admit that if Mom died tomorrow, Dad would be up the creek without a paddle logistically – wouldn’t know where the emergency diapers are, the phone number of any babysitter, the password to the Airbnb account, or when the car insurance premium will be drafted.

But surely there’s a more persuasive – positive – reason for the menfolk to shoulder a more equitable share of the emotional labor: it enriches them.

How many married men, particularly those with children, have meaningful friendships or a meaningful social life that isn’t planned by somebody else? A few, yes. Most, no. If you let your wife do all the social planning, what does that leave you? With friendships initiated, pursued, maintained, and enriched by someone else, on your behalf.

This is a loss, y’all.

Here’s what I’d just love to see: emotional labor shared between men and women, in a mature give-and-take, without perfectionism (women!), without defensiveness (men!), without a scorecard (women! men!), without arbitrary or culturally-imposed guidelines. Men who notice and care about the house and the calendar and the kids’ lives just as deeply as women. Women who let go of their insistence that everything be done perfectly (i.e., MY way). Men who aren’t defensive. Women who don’t volunteer to bear all the emotional labor burdens.

Gemma Hartley puts it this way: “Men who are not engaged in emotional labor are in many ways living the same sort of half-life that women were living just a few decades ago. Without a stake in the domestic realm, without emotional connection, without responsibility for their own lives, their worth hinges solely on their career status – what else holds value for them in the world as we know it? Because society tells them it is not their place to be vulnerable and connected, many men don’t pursue the well-rounded life that women strive for. They settle for less where it matters most, because we tell men that their worth is linked not to who they are but to what they do.”

I want my husband to live his fullest possible life. That means when he gets home from work, he’s not just a passive recipient or docile servant of the life I’ve planned for him here. It means he cares as much about our home, our life together, our children, as I do – care that’s demonstrated by taking initiative, by being fully engaged. It means he has friendships, real ones, not just by association with me, that he’s built himself.

Enough with the false division of labor. Enough with the bulk of emotional labor being born by women. Enough with men being either leeches at home, or just doing what they’re told. Let’s manage our home together (not Mom every day, Dad with the occasional repair or yard work). Let’s raise our children together (not Mom, with an agreeable Dad). Let’s build friendships together.

Let’s redistribute the thought, initiative, and management of our family life so that we’re all living fully, bearing one another’s burdens, sharing one another’s joys, loving and growing in every way together.

Emotional labor, part one

A little pop quiz with an obvious agenda, fellow married women:

Of the following roles or responsibilities, which are conducted exclusively or primarily by you (or are assigned by you), and which, voluntarily, by your husband?

• Who notices the layer of dust on the dresser? (Not “who dusts,” but “who notices”)
• Who notices the countertop smears of toothpaste in the kids’ bathroom? (’Cause we all know it ain’t the kids)
• Who knows the birthdays of all the parental units? And the children’s cousins?
• Who has the phone numbers of all the babysitters?
• Whose name is listed as the primary contact for the school? The church? The sports league(s)? The pediatrician?
• Who knows when the band concert is? Who knows what has to be brought to rehearsal? Who knows where the uniform is?
• Who knows, off hand, the game schedule? The practice schedule? The school’s early release days and late start days?
• Who knows the children’s teachers’ names – and their subject? Who makes a note to get the teachers Christmas and year-end gifts?
• Who makes the Christmas gift list? Who shops? Who wraps gifts? Who makes the appointment with the photographer, gets everybody color-coordinated for the photo session, selects the four best prints out of a possible 928, designs and orders the card in time, double-checks all the addresses (deleting and re-arranging and updating as needed!), and mails the damn cards??
• Who knows what size shoes and clothes the children wear?
• Who knows the names of the children’s friends – and their parents?
• Who receives the invitations to the children’s friends’ birthday parties? The family reunion? The adult friends’ parties?
• Who signs the permission slips and the report cards and signup sheets? Who sends in the money – on time – for the uniform, the field trip, the tuition, the team gift for the coach, the registration?

Yes. I thought so.

Not only do we do all this, friends, we do it as a matter of course. We do it without being thanked. We do it without anyone even noticing we’re doing it. And heaven forfend the very notion that we should be paid for it.

As if that weren’t enough – as if it weren’t enough that we do all this without thanks, without pay, and without even acknowledgement – we do it nicely.

• We don’t want to upset the dear hubby or children, and so we speak softly.
• We try not to “nag.”
• We couch our requests in terms of “I could use some help, please.” (Never knowing or questioning why the task at hand is “our” job.)
• We put a calendar in every room of the house including the bathroom, and on every single electronic device, and we refresh the calendar every 4 minutes so no one has to keep all this in their head, poor things. (EVEN THOUGH IT’S IN OUR HEADS EVERY MOTHER-LOVING MINUTE.)
• We provide multiple verbal reminders, the timing carefully chosen, the words and the tone equally carefully chosen.
• We set up organizational systems in the home and in the car(s) (systems the military would envy!) so no one else has to, so all the minutia, the flotsam, the jetsam, the tens of thousands of items and details all have an assigned place, an assigned time, an assigned caretaker.

And still, we’re asked, on a daily basis:

• “Where are the car keys?”
• “Where’s my iPad?”
• “Where’s my uniform?”
• “Where did I leave my homework?”
• “When did you say the Jones’ are coming over?”
• “How come we’re out of milk/toilet paper/bread/juice/mayonnaise?”
• “Where do we keep double-A batteries?”
• “When’s our beach trip again? I need to get the days off.”
• “Where’s the Scout meeting tonight?”
• “What time is the church thing over again?”
• “Why don’t I have any clean socks??”

It’s called “emotional labor.” And you know we do the bulk of it.

We’re expected to. The culture expects it. Our families expect it. Aw heck we’ve so internalized it we expect it of ourselves. (I’m looking at you, Pinterest!!!)

We’re told “women just naturally do those things better,” without a single shred of evidence other than the fact that we already do those things.

Ya think maybe we do this stuff because if we didn’t, then every shred of domestic peace, not to mention bliss, would disappear in the time it takes to say “what’s for supper?” How many birthdays would be missed? How many registration deadlines would pass? How many hurt feelings would be born with every overlooked relational milestone? How many phone calls would you get from teachers about missed homework, missed projects, missed permission slips?

Now some of us are partnered with some progressive guys, and we’re the “lucky” ones. It’s true. I’m not even being sarcastic. Compared to what so many men do (and especially compared to previous generations of men), my husband is a DREAM. Compared to the emotional labor I perform, however, he’s not even in the same ballpark.

Emotional labor is why the mental list NEVER goes away. It’s why I used to make grocery lists while sitting in the school car line. It’s why I sit down with a good book, only to get up 1,624 times to find something for someone (usually something that was RIGHT where I told them). It’s why I stand in the shower for an extra forever, re-arranging calendars in my head so everybody else has as easy a schedule as possible. It’s why I sit here to write this blog post but go fetch the broom instead because I just can’t bear the little pile of dirt on the bare floor any more…the pile that’s been there for days, unnoticed by anyone else who lives here. It’s why I keep a running tab – in my head and on the counter – of items needed from the grocery store, items no one else will think about until they reach for them and come up empty-handed: Kleenex, sliced bread, shampoo, dog food, sliced cheese, garbage bags. It’s why I have a tally in my head of how many and which friends my children have played with this week, so I can manage their social calendars with optimum benefit.

My brain has turned into a spreadsheet that the IRS couldn’t interpret. It’s exhausting. So even when I attempt to be creative or focus on work, there’s no space in my brain. It’s consumed with lists and calendars and the emotional massaging and babysitting of everyone in my life.

Or, as Gemma Hartley put it, I’m Fed Up.

How easy our menfolk and children have it, eh? And yet, this isn’t good for them, either.

I’ll explain why tomorrow.

Why can’t we be friends?

So we read Galatians 3:28: “There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” 

And we’re great, as a Church, when we see those barriers fall. We love to see blacks and whites and Hispanics and Asians all worshipping together. We love to see Israelis and Palestinians joined in worship. We love to see rich and poor together, the celebrities and the anonymous together, Republicans and Democrats, the happily married and the thrice-divorced, the young and the old and all in between, the men and the women….

Oh wait. ’Cept not that last one. THAT barrier must needs stand.

Because (thank you Freud) we all know that, at our most basic, men and women are just sex drives with legs.

So it’s awesome – we stand and cheer – when a black pastor and a white pastor become close friends. It’s outstanding when avowed Republicans and avowed Democrats are also avowed friends, and serve others alongside one another, with compassion and selflessness. It’s superb when the hedge fund manager and the homeless guy go on a mission trip together and end up becoming good friends. (I’m assuming – optimistically & probably naively – that’s happened?)

Unless, of course, any of these friendships are between a man and woman who are not – nor plan to be – married to each other.

Then it’s not okay.

Never mind that Jesus had women following him everywhere when he was on earth. Not just following, but financially enabling his ministry.

Never mind that Jesus apparently disregarded all social custom and in fact seriously endangered his reputation as a minister when he did the first century equivalent of letting a call girl lavish him with kisses at Billy Graham’s house (See “Prostitute visits Jesus at Simon’s house,” Luke 7).

Never mind that Jesus entrusted his closest male friend (John) with the complete care of his mother (Mary) – who was only about 15 years older than John. (See “Jesus gives Mom to John,” John 19.) Gasp.

Never mind that Jesus was alone with a woman – and a committed immoral one, at that – in a public place. (See “Samaritan woman,” John 3.) Gasp again.

Never mind that Jesus’s first appearance after his resurrection was to a woman. Alone. In a garden. Oh my.

Contrast this with the teaching and counsel of the church today. Here are the rules. If you’ve been in church any length of time at all, you’ve heard these or some close version of them. And you’d better believe these are RULES; they are not recommendations.

1. You may not be alone with a person of the opposite sex in public unless you’re related or dating.
2. You may not be alone with a person of the opposite sex in private – unless you’re related or dating.
3. You may be friends with a person of the opposite sex, even if one or both of you are married to someone else – but the friendship should be carried out in group settings, and it should NEVER get intimate or deep.

To stray from these rules is to put yourself on a “slippery slope,” to “play with fire,” to “unwisely test the boundaries.”

Do we not see that, at its most dumbed-down (which doesn’t take long), all of these rules are based on the assumption that, again, at our most basic level, men and women are sex drives with legs? These rules have a stain of “protection” (of marriage, ministry, and witness), but underneath the stain is crumbly particle board.

Can you imagine Jesus saying to a woman in today’s church, “Love you, dear, but we can only talk at the church office with a big window in the door”? Can you imagine Jesus saying to a man in today’s church, “Yeah, I see you have a potentially rich friendship with this woman, but since you’re already married, you’re gonna have to nip that. Too risky”? Can you imagine Jesus saying to the lifelong singles in our church, “Sorry, real oneness is reserved for married people, but don’t worry, it’ll all be okay in heaven”?

It seems to me we’re okay with Jesus breaking down every barrier but this one. The male-female divide, we’re basically saying, is just too deep and wide for even the blood of Jesus to bring unity and peace to.

Because, you know, we’re “wired” for sex.

Thanks a lot, Freud.

Balarkey.

Jesus came to destroy barriers, to demolish walls, to bring peace to those who were far away and peace to those who were already near. How can we think that Jesus can bridge the vast, immeasurable chasm between sinful man and holy God, but is unable to help men and women be genuine friends? Really?

Now, I know all the reasons the contemporary church gives for all these rules and boundaries. Do these sound familiar?

“Protecting the sanctity of marriage.”

“Protecting the reputation of Christians and especially ministers of the gospel.”

“Protecting the witness of the Church in a world that sees sexual scandal in the Church at every turn (sometimes for real, sometimes just rumor).”

And of course those lines about slippery slopes and playing with fire.

Yes, yes. But look at those phrases and those defenses. Every one is based on fear, distrust, and suspicion.

We are afraid of our own bodies, and others’. And the church reinforces this.

We are afraid that any time a man and woman forge a close friendship, it will inevitably end up in the bedroom. Or at least they’ll want it to. Freud said it, the world believes it, and now the church reinforces it too.

We are afraid of the world’s censure. Because there has been so much sexual scandal in the church, and the world (rightly) condemns it, we walk on eggshells around people of the opposite sex. Especially those of us in church leadership.

As an aside here, may I remind us that the world will never understand the unity Jesus can bring among his followers? The world is shocked when victims offer forgiveness to perpetrators (see the families of the Charleston Nine). The world is shocked when reconciliation happens at the nation-state level (see Rwanda). The world is shocked when Israeli and Arab believers come together. The world is shocked when black and white worship together. The world cynically dismisses it all as political posturing.

Does this mean the Church ceases to seek reconciliation between historically divided parties? Not at all!

Unless, of course, again, we’re talking about the divide between men and women.

In that case, the Church not only is not really seeking reconciliation, it’s actively counseling against it.

Unless you’re lucky enough to be married. Not just married, but to your downright absolute one-and-only soulmate. (Is there such a thing?)

Didn’t Jesus come to bring peace among his followers? Why do we think that stops at the male-female wall?

Can you imagine what the world would say if the Church began to encourage genuine, close, intimate friendships between men and women, regardless of marital or eventual-marital state?

I can imagine. It would go something like this: “Look at those Christian men and women, thinking they can be tight friends without the sex card getting in the way. Either they’re hiding their affair, or they’re suppressing their desires.”

But what if believing men and women continued to live in the unity that Jesus does offer? What if they served and worshipped and played and worked together, year after year, with never a hint of sexual involvement? (Yes, it IS possible. We are more than our sex drives, y’all!) What then?

Is it possible an unbelieving world – just a few of them – might take notice and say, “Well, hmm, maybe there is something to this notion that Jesus can bring reconciliation. I mean, I know these Christian men and women who are really tight friends, and there’s nothing sexual about it, but they are seriously tight and it is cool and I wish I could have a friendship like that with a person of the opposite sex.”

Wouldn’t that be lovely?

Wouldn’t that be reconciliation on a beautiful level?

Oh, and this isn’t purely theoretical to me. I have male friends I once was dear friends with – back before we both got so into church and things got weird. I mourn the distance and odd boundaries between us now. I am sad at the loss of what used to be an intimate friendship.

And I have male friends now with whom I distinctly sense the possibility of deep friendship – if only we weren’t both part of a culture that would look with such distrust and suspicion on its development. I am sad at the loss of that.

I need all the meaningful friendships I can get – don’t you? Don’t we all?

I want the unity Jesus died to bring. I want the freedom to pursue rich and meaningful friendships with my brothers and sisters of different skin color, different cultural background, different voting habits, different socioeconomic status, and, yes, even with those of the opposite sex.

We are more than our sex drives. We are brothers and sisters in a family created by the sacrificial shed blood of Jesus. How I long to live in true community, walls down, barriers gone, freedom and grace given free rein.

Doesn’t that sound nice?

On Sexual Lust, or “The Problem Isn’t in Your Eyes – or My Body”

The Continuum:

Libertinism………………………………………..Asceticism

I’m not the problem.

Really, I’m not. Just because I’m female…not overweight…and wear a bikini on the beach – none of this makes me the problem for any male believer dealing with lust.

And because I’m not the problem, I’m not the answer either. The problem, my brothers, is in your heads and hearts, and therefore the solution also lies there (via the Holy Spirit). Sorry, I can only help you by praying for you to think like Jesus. ’Cuz I sure would love for you to look at me like Jesus does.

And I’ll tell you, Jesus doesn’t avoid looking at me any more than he looks at me “lustfully in his heart.”

That’s because Jesus never forgets what he’s looking at when he looks at a woman (beautiful by her culture’s standards or not): a beautiful and holistic creation of his Father – a body with a soul and spirit and intellect, all so intricately bound together they are inseparable.

Oh, my brothers in Jesus, that you would look at your sisters in Christ – indeed, at all women – through this lens!

You see, to indulge in the thinking at either end of this continuum (see above) is to think – and therefore behave – askew.

Believers generally agree on the base problem with the libertine approach. Full indulgence of  lust leads to all kinds of havoc, which hardly needs to be listed here. (And, I might add, even our licentious culture reluctantly concedes outright libertinism is a dangerous path.) What’s the bottom line sin with this thinking and behavior? Women become purely sexual objects – harmful to them, and a blatant disregard for the fact that their Creator made them complex creatures – body, soul, and spirit – in his very own image.

Bad, bad, we say. “Don’t go there!” churches and leaders scream, plead, exhort, and rebuke men. “Stay out of Hooters and strip clubs and get the protective software to keep you away from porn.”

And the solution that gets touted by Arterburn & Co.? “Stay away from women. Don’t look. Whatever you do, DON’T LOOK!!!” As if they’re seizing Lot by the hand as he runs wildly from the burning cities of Sodom and Gomorrah. As if women were the equivalent of those cesspools, and these brothers are in danger of turning into pillars of salt if they turn their eyes towards the wickedness of womankind.

There are two problems with this line of thinking. First of all, it simply doesn’t work. Our culture is awash, positively swimming in sexual temptation; a blind man can see it. So unless my brother retreats to a desert hermitage, he will be exposed to this temptation, “parental controls” on or no.

Another reason it doesn’t work is that even believers cannot sustain this kind of thinking forever. We men and women are frail in the sinful nature, however willing our spirits might be.

To put it more theologically, this type of discipline is based on the Law, not Grace. And we all know where the Law gets us: fallen and condemned, however hard we try.

The second problem with this line of thinking is that it does the same thing to women as the licentious approach: it objectifies us. The guy who ogles me objectifies me as a sexual object; the brother, however well-intentioned, who avoids me (including eye contact but especially any kind of touch) also objectifies me. Worse, he makes me the source of temptation.

I am not. Unless I’m genuinely being tempting (and it will be obvious), I am not the temptation. Please, don’t look at me as an evil to be avoided, and don’t quote the Psalmist in the process (“I will set before my eyes no vile thing,” Ps. 101:3a).

I am a complete person. I have a body, a soul, a spirit, a mind, a heart. No one part of me defines me. God made me complex in so many ways. And I invite you to appreciate all of me as a reflection of God’s beauty, God’s creativity, and God’s holiness.

Look at me, please, the way Jesus does: straight in the eye, with a smile of acceptance and hands outstretched in friendship and strength. Don’t turn the other way because I’m female.

Please – will a man in the church stand up and teach this? I will applaud, “amen,” and happily pitch in to see this message make its way into the hearts of my brothers who so want to walk in holiness. Many of these men work so doggedly to stay sexually pure, constructing all the defensive behavioral barriers Arterburn & Co. tell them to put around their eyes, minds, and marriages.

But my brothers in Christ cannot win this battle by taking only a defensive stance. The true freedom – with any issue – comes when our minds are transformed and our hearts renewed. I want to see you men set free from the long and futile slough of self-help, into the light of thinking and seeing like Jesus.

In that place, you will find a rich, beautiful world of rich, beautiful relationships with beautiful (because they were made by your Father) women.

I long to see us all free of the Law, and I long to see women free of objectification.

Because we sisters (we women) are weary of being seen as a problem to be avoided. We want to walk in dynamic and rich friendship and partnership with our brothers in Christ – to show the world how Jesus sees…and how he loves.