Has the #church over sold the value of virginity?

When I was but a lowly youth intern, at my local church, one of my jobs was to plan, organize, and execute our annual True Love Waits Banquet (TLWB).  For those of you not in the know on such things, a TLWB is a an event (usually a dinner) where young people pledge to refrain from sexual sin.  There is generally a “promise ring” given by the families of the young initiates.

I found this to be a wonderfully inspiring rite of passage.  Sexual purity is a rare thing in our culture, and I was personally moved by all of the teens who were willing to take the pledge. Whether or not the pledge was kept, is another discussion.  My point is, in that moment, the teens took to heart the Christian doctrine of sexual purity.  They committed to the faith!

Apparently, there is a woman out there arguing that waiting has caused her immense regret.  She says that she still feels shame about sex, even though she is happily married. She says, she wishes she had been more sexually experienced, so that she could be prepared for her wedding night.  She says that she no longer feels “special” since she gave her virginity to her husband.  Read her full article below:

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Believing that true love waits, I make a commitment to God, myself, my family, my friends, my future mate and my future children to be sexually abstinent from this day until the day I enter a biblical marriage relationship. As well as abstaining from sexual thoughts, sexual touching, pornography, and actions that are known to lead to sexual arousal.” At the age of 10, I took a pledge at my church alongside a group of other girls to remain a virgin until marriage. Yes, you read that right — I was 10 years old. Let’s take a look at who I was as a 10-year-old: I was in fourth grade. I played with Barbie dolls and had tea parties with imaginary friends. I pretended I was a mermaid every time I took a bath. I still thought boys were icky and I had no idea I liked girls, too. I wouldn’t get my period for another four years. And most importantly, I didn’t have a clue about sex. The church taught me that sex was for married people. Extramarital sex was sinful and dirty and I would go to Hell if I did it. I learned that as a girl, I had a responsibility to my future husband to remain pure for him. It was entirely possible that my future husband wouldn’t remain pure for me, because he didn’t have that same responsibility, according to the Bible. And of course, because I was a Christian, I would forgive him for his past transgressions and fully give myself to him, body and soul. Once I got married, it would be my duty to fulfill my husband’s sexual needs. I was told over and over again, so many times I lost count, that if I remained pure, my marriage would be blessed by God and if I didn’t that it would fall apart and end in tragic divorce. I believed it. Why wouldn’t I? I was young and these were people I trusted. Everyone knew I’d taken the virginity vow, of course. Gossip is the lifeblood of the Baptist Church. My parents were so proud of me for making such a spiritual decision. The church congregation applauded my righteousness. 7-31_ringexchange For more than a decade, I wore my virginity like a badge of honor. My church encouraged me to do so, saying my testimony would inspire other young girls to follow suit. If the topic ever came up in conversation, I was happy to let people know that I had taken a pledge of purity. It became my entire identity by the time I hit my teen years. When I met my then boyfriend-now husband, I told him right away that I was saving myself for marriage and he was fine with that because it was my body, my choice and he loved me. We were together for six years before we got married. Any time we did anything remotely sexual, guilt overwhelmed me. I wondered where the line was because I was terrified to cross it. Was he allowed to touch my breasts? Could we look at each other naked? I didn’t know what was considered sexual enough to condemn my future marriage and send me straight to Hell. An unhealthy mixture of pride, fear, and guilt helped me keep my pledge until we got married. In the weeks before our wedding, I often got congratulated on keeping my virginity for so long. The comments ranged from curious (how in the world did you manage?) to downright disgusting (I bet you’re going to have one busy wedding night!). I let them place me on the pedestal as their virginal, perfect-Christian-girl mascot. I lost my virginity on my wedding night, with my husband, just as I had promised that day when I was 10 years old. I stood in the hotel bathroom beforehand, wearing my white lingerie, thinking, “I made it. I’m a good Christian.” There was no chorus of angels, no shining light from Heaven. It was just me and my husband in a dark room, fumbling with a condom and a bottle of lube for the first time. 7-31_lacelingerie_0 Sex hurt. I knew it would. Everyone told me it would be uncomfortable the first time. What they didn’t tell me is that I would be back in the bathroom afterward, crying quietly for reasons I didn’t yet comprehend. They didn’t tell me that I’d be on my honeymoon, crying again, because sex felt dirty and wrong and sinful even though I was married and it was supposed to be okay now. When we got home, I couldn’t look anyone in the eye. Everyone knew my virginity was gone. My parents, my church, my friends, my co-workers. They all knew I was soiled and tarnished. I wasn’t special anymore. My virginity had become such an essential part of my personality that I didn’t know who I was without it. It didn’t get better. I avoided undressing in front of my husband. I tried not to kiss him too often or too amorously so I wouldn’t lead him on. I dreaded bedtime. Maybe he’d want to have sex. When he did, I obliged. I wanted nothing more than to make him happy because I loved him so much and because I’d been taught it was my duty to fulfill his needs. But I hated sex. Sometimes I cried myself to sleep because I wanted to like it, because it wasn’t fair. I had done everything right. I took the pledge and stayed true to it. Where was the blessed marriage I was promised? I let it go on this way for almost two years before I broke down. I just couldn’t do it anymore. I told my husband everything. My feminist husband was horrified that I’d let him touch me when I didn’t want him to. He made me promise I’d never do anything I didn’t want to do ever again. We stopped having sex. He encouraged me to see a therapist and I did. It was the first step on a long journey to healing. Ten-year-old girls want to believe in fairy tales. Take this pledge and God will love you so much and be so proud of you, they told me. If you wait to have sex until marriage, God will bring you a wonderful Christian husband and you’ll get married and live happily ever after, they said. Waiting didn’t give me a happily ever after. Instead, it controlled my identity for over a decade, landed me in therapy, and left me a stranger in my own skin. I was so completely ashamed of my body and my sexuality that it made having sex a demoralizing experience. I don’t go to church anymore, nor am I religious. As I started to heal, I realized that I couldn’t figure out how to be both religious and sexual at the same time. I chose sex. Every single day is a battle to remember that my body belongs to me and not to the church of my childhood. I have to constantly remind myself that a pledge I took when I was only 10 doesn’t define who I am today. When I have sex with my husband, I make sure it’s because I have a sexual need and not because I feel I’m required to fulfill his desires. I’m now thoroughly convinced that the entire concept of virginity is used to control female sexuality. If I could go back, I would not wait. I would have sex with my then-boyfriend-now-husband and I wouldn’t go to hell for it. We would have gotten married at a more appropriate age and I would have kept my sexuality to myself. Unfortunately, I can’t go back but I can give you this message as a culmination of my experiences: If you want to wait to have sex until marriage make sure it’s because you want to. It’s your body; it belongs to you, not your church. Your sexuality is nobody’s business but yours.

This is a hard thing.  No married woman should feel shame about consensual sex with her husband.  I’m angry at the devil for deceiving this woman, and filling her mind with shame feelings about something that is both lawful and God honoring: Christian sex!  I feel sympathy for this woman.  I also feel that she foolishly based her self image and identity on being a virgin, rather than on being a child of Christ.  When she says that “people know I’m not a virgin anymore”, it tells me that her focus is on herself instead of on Jesus.  She should be busy giving God glory that He helped her keep herself pure for marriage.  Consequently that could be her new testimony!  Instead, she throws herself a very public pity party on styleite.com.  It is all about her.

My message to Samantha is this; “Please let go of self righteousness, and embrace the righteousness of Christ.  So what, if you don’t have your virginity?  You can have something better; purity!  You may not be perfectly comfortable in the arms of your earthly husband (yet), but you can be perfectly comfortable in the loving embrace of your heavenly Father.  Trust Him!”

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Modern Feminism, Or, Something Else? Man-hating woman wants to convince men to join her crusade against men.

Boy, am I glad my mother was not a misandrist!  She loved every one of her 5 sons, and she encouraged us to be MEN! 

On August 8th, Jess Zimmerman posted an article to Medium.com defending her position as a Misandrist (hater of men).  She explains that hating men, means hating who men are (i.e. the patriarchy, masculinity, the jerks, the strength of men, just to name a few things about men she takes issues with) not hating individual males.  And that I think is what she wants to reduce men to; males.  Males are okay with her, because males are not the “men” we currently experience as brothers, fathers, husbands, and sons.

She tries to explain that banning “men” is good for males.  It is good for males, because being “men” is bad for us.  Being “men” dehumanizes men, so we should all just get on board with her view of what a male is.  As if someone, who openly hates men, can be trusted to dictate the roles of and definition for men.  Do we allow the people in this world who are most openly hostile towards women (i.e. sharia compliant regimes) dictate for the world the roles and definition of womanhood?  Do we allow pedophiles to dictate the roles and definition for childhood?  No!  And why not, because to do so is worse than absurd; it is destructive to the very nature of what being a woman or child is all about.

So also it is destructive to allow Jess Zimmerman to dictate to all “men” how we ought to go about converting into males.  All things being equal, Misandry is a greater evil than racism, because it is a hatred of %50 of the earth’s population.  Her basic argument is this (lets see if you can follow along)

  1. Men are shameful weaklings.
  2. They should eschew their remaining strength.
  3. This will be good for them, because they are so weak anyway.

This is the guy she wants us to be; in a word, pathetic.


Talk about an exercise in begging the question!  How can a thinking person not see this for what it is?  A big ball of logical fallacies, masquerading as a legitimate call to action.  I believe that if men are behaving badly, they aren’t living up to their manly calling at all.  Furthermore, true men are the most honorable, kind, loving, woman honoring, morally and physically strong and courageous people on this earth.  She believes that to be “men” means to behave badly.  This underlines her inherent respect for what a man actually is.  Just because some men have given themselves over to weakness, and thereby began treating women shabbily, doesn’t mean they need more weakness.  What they need is more strength.  What they need is to put away childish things, and stand up and act like men!

I’ll put her logic in story form, so we can see just how absurd and destructive it is.

“A once virile man is injured in a car accident.  This leaves his legs weakened.  He is given a choice between physical therapy/strength training, or, a wheelchair.  If he chooses physical therapy, it will be hard, but eventually he will relearn how to walk on his own; presently, after much perseverance, his strength returns.  If he chooses the wheel chair, it will be quite easy, but he shall never walk again.”

This is her Misandrist logic, if logic it can even be called. “Give up your strength! You’re all shameful weaklings anyway!” I encourage you to read her article, if for no other reason than to see what nonsense she is spewing. I leave you with this word of warning; many of the things we once thought of as utter nonsense, a generation ago, are now firmly entrenched logical categories in the minds of today’s unbelieving cutlure.

Click the link below:


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