Purity Culture

If there’s one thing I’m terrible at – well, besides snowboarding, and whistling, and technology, and picking out non-burn-inducing mouthwash –

it’s romantic relationships.

You guys, for real.  I’m the worst.

It’s all fun and games while the mystery is still there.  You know, trying to figure out if they’re into you, the inconsistent and unpredictable texting, the semi-ambiguous hangouts, the game.  But once there’s, like, intentionality involved, as in words like, “I am interested in you, and I want to get to know you better,” my mind and body go into freak out mode.  Because, in my mind, as soon as someone gives up the ruse, throws in the towel on the game, that someone just gave me something, a piece of their heart or mind or something of themselves for which I am now responsible.  Responsible to accept and cherish or to give back with a little more wear and tear than before. 

I can’t handle it.

I was in a coffee shop with some good friends a few weeks ago.  One was in a struggling relationship, another was struggling to decide whether she wanted to pursue a relationship, and then there was me:  single and free. 

“I just don’t know what to do,” one of the struggling ones said through tears.  “I mean, I feel like I’ve been told my whole life to be so careful in dating, to guard myself against impurity and being with the wrong kind of guy, but it just produced this fear of screwing up to the point where I didn’t live.”

We all chimed in with similar feelings, recalling the weight of the church youth group purity culture in which we grew up, telling us not to give ourselves away or kiss boys in places we wouldn’t want to tell our grandmas about or maybe just not date at all because really, what’s the point, and who wants that emotional baggage?  Because if you hand a guy your emotional or physical rose, or Styrofoam cup, or wrapped up Jolly Rancher before you marry him, you’re damaged goods, and nobody wants you anymore.  It was a culture of performance and fear, one that got us hyped up about our husband lists and wedding days but never told us how to become marriable human beings because we were so set on avoiding the potentially wrong relationship. 

Don’t get me wrong.  I’m all for the heart behind the purity talks.  I’m all for pursuing the best thing, sex in the context of marriage, the way God designed it.  But when we start exalting the pursuit of an ideal over the pursuit of Jesus Himself, things always get a little screwy. 

And, honestly, I don’t know what to do about it. 

I’m certainly not the first one to bring this up.  It seems like I’ve recently seen more blogs floating around than usual on this topic. 

I’m also not trying to chalk up my inability to function well in relationships entirely to teaching I received throughout my youth.  I’m a big girl, and I need to be able to make big girl decisions.

But I do wonder. 

I wonder what it would have been like to go about those early dating years without so much fear of making the wrong decision, of tainting my purity ring, of feeling condemned to Hades every time I went too far.  I wonder what it would have been like to focus more on Jesus Himself, on the freedom and fullness of His love that is more satisfying than professions of longtime interest over MSN chat or a first “real kiss” under the stars, a love that actually fills you up so much that you don’t even want to tread the wide road because you’re already accepted but reminds you that – though feeling broken and worthless – you are still whole and still redeemed if you do. 

And maybe it’s okay for me to receive that piece of emotional something and treat it the best I can, knowing I may not be able to return it in its original state – trusting that the God who makes me whole can take care of other people, too.

Real Church

I love church. 

But there was a time when I didn’t care about it all that much.

As a kid who grew up going to Sunday School and Big Church and all those Christianese names we came up with for our specific Sunday morning gatherings, church was kind of just a thing good people did.  You go on Sundays and Wednesdays, and you felt guilty when you didn’t – not because it had that much of an impact on your personal life, but because… it’s just something you were supposed to do, some vague standard you believed God held you to and was disappointed when you fell short. 

So I went.  But I never really experienced or really even knew things like community orvulnerability were a thing, not until later.  I threw myself into activities like choir and youth group and later youth group leading.  I could put on the nametag that said, Hello, My Name Is “Productive Member of the Body of Christ”.  And as we Christians, or Americans, or simply just people often do, I let my worth get tied to my performance, my level of helpfulness, you know – doing the Lord’s work, as if God couldn’t do it Himself.

I guess that really started to change when I started attending Celebrate Recovery, a 12-step, Christ-centered recovery program for people of all backgrounds and hurts, habits, and hang-ups (which is everyone, in case you missed that).  Up until that point, I had never been around people who let all their issues hang out.  People who could stand in front of a group of mostly strangers and say, “I’m a believer in Jesus Christ who struggles with food addiction/codependency/alcohol addiction/people approval/control… and my name is _______.”  I started to recognize the names of those struggles swirling around in me.  And I experienced the freedom of actually saying, Yeah, me too. 

In those days, God started opening my eyes to what real church looked like.  Not abuilding, place where we can feel good about greeting newcomers and serving donuts and showing off our Sunday best.  But a place where we can be real about our crap, because our “goodness” doesn’t make us good enough, because we're gathering in a Name other than our own.  And, once the masks are finally off, we can empower each other to pursue Him instead of the ideal images of ourselves.

In those days, God gave me people who pointed out the lies I believed about myself and about Him.  Lies like… I missed the mark.  I’m not good at anything.  I am not valuable.  God is disappointed in me.  I can’t hear the voice of God.  If I just had more faith, God would give me ________.  I will never be at peace…

And He said, Blessed are those who [failed/mourn over life lost/are restless for something more], for they will be [comforted/filled/given the Kingdom of God].  He said,Good!  I’m glad you finally quit pretending you have it all together – because I actually do, and I am the One who makes you whole.  I redeem your failures.  I have made you worthy.  I made you, I know you, I love you, and I’ve got you.

It’s that sort of experience – that raw, authentic way of relating to others and to God – that makes you never want to go back to being fine.  It’s that same thing that I want for the people of Thailand, the freedom and life of being known and loved anyway. Yeah, you failed.  So did I.  But that failure to measure up was the train wreck that brought me back to the Prodigal God.

Have you ever experienced real church?  How did it change you?

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THE STUFF OF NEWS:

• I will be spending most of July and August in a discipleship/internship at Avant.  I'll be volunteering in the Kansas City community, helping out at the Avant office, and building relationships with the people up there.
   
• The roundtrip road trip through the Midwest was a success!

THE STUFF OF PRAYER: Please continue praying for the people of Thailand - the ongoing political situation, the Christians and ministries already there, and that God will continue opening people's hearts to the Truth of the Gospel.   I have received financial pledges of about 77% of my required monthly support!  Thank you to those of you who have chosen to partner with me in this Kingdom work.  Please pray for my team as we continue to seek ministry partners to serve with us through prayer and finances.  If you believe the Lord is leading you to help send me to Thailand, please click the button below.

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