Tag Archives: submit

The church hates free sex. I want sex. The church and I are enemies.

I am 20 years old. I have never had sex. I have never had a boyfriend. I have never even “touched myself” (sorry for TMI), and I don’t talk about sex, never ever ever. For the last big chunk of my life, I have craved sex. Why, then, am I so strictly chaste? Because that’s what good girls do. And I am a good girl.

My religion taught me from a young age that sex is bad and that I am bad for wanting it. Sex has been one of my most enjoyed thoughts and one of my deepest, tabooed and stigma-rich secrets. Since I was about 12 I have had sexual fantasies weekly if not daily. (I also have other, violent fantasies, probably from repression of these, but that’s another story.)

I do want sex. I do want a boyfriend. I want to be loved. I want my body to matter. Every day that goes by when I am alone puts another nail in the coffin of my desires. If I had not been forced to be religious when I was growing up, I really doubt that I would be like this. My best friend from elementary school got into BDSM. I’ve no doubt I would have been more like that, or at least romantically involved, without church to constantly yell at me and condemn me for having any physical desire for another person.

I can’t even touch people without my inner “good girl” critic yelling at me. My ingrained church rules effectively stunted my sexual development, and I am yet a virgin (their goal fulfilled!), but it’s a success carried out by shaming and guilt. This is partly why I hate myself now. No matter how well I hide it, I have always been attracted to sex (who hasn’t?), making me question myself and the “demons inside me” at every turn when my church leaders said over and over “sex is bad.” Then, if I want sex, I’m bad. I’m female, so it’s not even possible for me to want sex. I should stand up for my brothers in Christ who are taken over by their own desires and protect them from themselves, and that ends my involvement with sex. I am to be a brick wall until I flip a switch on my wedding night.

I can’t believe that the god who designed sex would give me these feelings and not have a safe place for me to vent, feel them, or even talk about them. My church was not a home for me growing up, and has never felt safe for me to express all of me, because of its condemnation of sexual desire, and its refusal to accept that I am both a woman made in the image of God and a body filled at times with lust and sexual desire.


Surrender to God’s great LOVE!

I can’t understand it, this love he has for me.
I can’t reason out why He wants to set me free…
My reflection only frowns at me; my heart is made of stone.
Surely God knows there are better hopes around.

I’m not enslaved by sickness, poorness, hunger, or real chains
that His hand might take away, and only love remains.
But I enslave myself for my stained and lifeless heart.
If Jesus frees me from myself, he just pulls me apart.

What would he see fit to save? What good is left in me?
While he holds my hand I push away, “Please, leave!”
I sit alone at night and cry a death-song for myself,
stricken by the grief that I’m too far far-gone for health.

He says he comes down for the lost to bring them to His side.
So I make my ears reject what surely only are His lies.
Love me? Impossible! I say. I hate his grave, the cross.
And feel satisfied I’m saving him from my burdens and my cost.

One vessel of wrath, made for the fire. Your kingdom has no room.
Your Father knows not my name. I am made for hell, for doom.
Even with Jesus in my life (though he really stands afar),
I have no hope. A flightless bird, mistake. A fallen star.

God loves me, holds me gently while I cry myself to sleep.
and simply says, “I care. I love. You are my loved sheep.
I care for you, your life, your pain. I’ve come to earth for you.
Know this and be satisfied, for what I say is true.

I grieve your suffering and love you when you’re in your sin.
And I’m looking forward to the day when at last you’ll let me in.
I’m counting down the hours ’til from yourself you’re free.
I’m storming your defenses and you’re not a match for me.

You’ll yet give into what I will, submit to my attack.
Then I’ll take my daughter in my arms and her joy will make us laugh.
Right now the foe has tricked you. But one day near you’ll see
It’s not about your sin, it’s all about me.

I made you, I chose you, I saved you. I win.
I healed you, remade you. I’m stronger than sin.
Whatever your weakness, never forget.
I’m God and I’m stronger. I’m not done with you yet.

Your vision is short; you can’t see what I see.
Your future holds healing, renewal and beauty.
Just trust me and follow, I promise you life.
Lay down your burdens and be joined to Christ.

Know this, my daughter, and come to find rest.
This is my work, not your work. And my work be blessed.”