Well, I wasn’t planning on two posts this month with the word “sex” in the title. But it is February. And hey…you clicked. Ha.
This is for obedient Christian singles fascinated with this mysterious thing called sex. Call it an occupational hazard of virginity.
It’s kind of understandable. When an entire civilization stampedes past on the street in pursuit of something, you’re bound to crane your neck that way. Throw in an entertainment industry that’s found its
golden calf cash cow in sex and you’ve got a powerful allure. “Wow,” we find ourselves going if we’re not careful. “Sex really does look like the answer. Wish I could get that.”
Now, I’ve never had sex.
But I’ve seen what it does for people.
Three years on an Air Force launch truck trying to block out “the guys” detailing their tech school experiences and favorite porn.
Three more years as a teacher, watching a few of my students bring their babies to class, where they’d promptly tear up any of their mothers’ homework they could reach. Cute little buggers.
Three additional years (cumulatively) at a local pizza place which, like any minimum wage job, attracts a lot of tough cases.
I do not want to sound judgmental, but years later, here’s the scorecard. Those airmen were beset with divorce and cheating. How many worst-of-humanity stories seem to center around sex? My former students are still neck-deep in a hard, impoverished existence. The minimum wage scene? Those guys can’t hold down a job, existing perpetually in the town’s scummiest trailer parks with few tools for reaching escape velocity from their addictions and debt. The turmoil crisscrossing these stories is not appealing.
But the one thing they all had more of than me?
Lots of it.
Whenever they wanted.
Street truth: with low enough standards, anyone can get sex. It isn’t a 5-by-5 Rubik’s Cube anymore. Find someone you vaguely like, block out any caution, and you can get months of it, too.
“After a few days, the younger son got everything together and journeyed to a distant country, where he squandered his wealth in wild living. After he had spent all he had, a severe famine swept through that country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him into his fields to feed the pigs. He longed to fill his belly with the pods the pigs were eating, but no one would give him a thing.” (Luke 15:13-16)
Everyone who reads of the Prodigal Son’s “wild living” immediately thinks of one thing: seeeeeeex. Lots and lots of sex. That’s what his older brother assumed in verse 30, and there’s little reason to doubt it.
But the Prodigal Son would not be the first to focus so much on happenings after 9pm that he forgot there’s a 7am to be reckoned with. I’ve already told you of his comrades-in-being-fooled. Luke 15 isn’t an isolated incident. It’s the song of fallen man.
Sex is more widespread than any time in human history and still isn’t putting so much as a dent in Earth’s despair. Even we bespectacled virgins can see that. Sex looks for all the world like humanity’s favorite numbing agent, something where people seek a few hours’ refuge from problems, sometimes even problems with their relationship. That puts it on a level with…alcohol.
Good grief, big whoop.
I don’t want that kind of sex. I want the kind of sex intended and blessed by Christ, with a woman who won’t be dumping me for a better specimen (not hard to find) because she has vowed not to, the kind where we’re both seeking each other’s enjoyment over our own. Sex built upon years of committed, hard-fought love. Am I the only one who thinks that sounds way better?
After what I’ve seen, this deal of sex separated from God – or anything separated from God – just doesn’t get me out of bed in the morning.
And something has to, because life is moving on. It will heave and toss us about. Crises will come. That was the Prodigal Son’s painful lesson. He counted on a hedonistic lifestyle and it left him feeding pigs. The ultimate low for a Jew. Sin left him aching for the bread of life, yet he couldn’t get pig husks.
He was the one missing out.
Frankly, even sex within a Godly marriage isn’t the axis upon which the planet turns. Marriage isn’t about sex. It isn’t The Glue™. Marriage is about love, which sacrifices and seeks not its own. From what everyone in my spiritual life has told me, sex is one of those marriage perks that’s best when you surrender it, when you let go and let God. Take comfort in that, singles. I realize that’s a hopelessly broad statement for us to grasp presently (and we really don’t need details), but keep it in mind on the journey. We’re seeking marriage to love someone and demonstrate the Gospel, not to get…you know.
We’re not missing out. The curse of Eden is still on the warpath today, and sex is just not the grand escape the world claims. It isn’t making anyone happy. Not by itself.
On the other hand, this 33-year-old virgin is looking around, seeing God everywhere, and finding himself…pretty happy. It was a fight to get there, one that God had to win. But it happened. It is well with my soul.
Don’t be fooled.
And if you ever are…
A commentor on my last post pointed out that we “deserve to eat those ‘pig husks’ for eternity”. Yet the Prodigal Son’s story is not over. Indeed, it’s just getting started.
Grace is ahead.