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.
We Christian singles get easily fascinated with this mysterious thing called sex. Call it an occupational hazard of chastity.
It’s understandable. When an entire civilization stampedes past you 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 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 hearing the details of others’ tech school stories and favorite porn.
Three years as a teacher, watching students bring their babies to class, where they’d promptly tear up any of their mothers’ homework they could reach. Cute buggers.
Five years at a pizza place which, like any minimum wage job, attracts some tough cases.
Years later, here’s the scorecard. Those airmen were beset with divorce and cheating. My former students are still neck-deep in a hard, impoverished existence. The minimum wage scene? A few of those guys can’t hold down a job, existing perpetually in the scummiest trailer parks with few tools for reaching escape velocity.
But the one thing they all had more of than me?
Sex. 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. Find someone you vaguely like, block out any caution, and you can get months of it.
“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)
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, offering 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 just sex. I want sex intended by Christ, where we won’t be chasing a better specimen in the morning because we’ve vowed not to, where we’re both seeking each other’s enjoyment over our own. Sex built upon years of committed, hard-fought love. Am I really the only one who thinks that sounds way better?
After what I’ve seen, sex separated from God just doesn’t get me out of bed in the morning.
And something has to, because life is moving on. Focus too much on happenings after 9pm and you forget there’s a 7am. That was the Prodigal Son’s lesson. He counted on a hedonistic lifestyle and it left him feeding pigs. The ultimate low for a Jew.
From what everyone in my spiritual life has told me, marriage isn’t about sex. It’s a perk that works best when you surrender it, when you let go and let God. Take comfort in that, singles. We’re seeking marriage to love someone and live the Gospel, not to…you know.
The curse of Eden is still speaking 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 35-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.