I grew up hearing a lot about sex in the church.
Raised during the height of the purity movement, I had friends who "kissed dating goodbye" and others who plunged headfirst into the dating pool. We were instructed to wait until marriage for sex, but given little guidance about what to do with our sexual desires in the intervening years. We young women were reminded to dress modestly to avoid causing men to stumble, which made little sense to a flat-chested 15-year-old. Boys were instructed to guard their hearts and eyes as well, lest they fall prey to the wildfire lust lurking in their loins.
Though we heard plenty about our libidinous male counterparts, after college something strange happened. We heard nothing at all. Married women, it was assumed, had figured everything out. Single women were asexual beings, contentedly waiting for the right man to come along.
The messages we heard gave me the distinct impression that men were little more than walking lust machines, perpetually teetering on the brink of arousal. Just the slightest hint of cleavage or an overexposed leg could be enough to drive them over the edge. You can imagine my shock the first time my husband wasn't interested in sex. The idea that he might also be tired some nights, or turned off after an argument, or simply not in the mood, had never occurred to me.
From what I've heard from friends, my experience is not an exception. In Christian circles female sexuality is largely ignored. It's not hard to see why this might be. Most pastors are men, and are understandably reluctant to address sexual issues on the other side of the gender divide. Second, if they do venture beyond the usual "do's and don'ts," their teaching on the subject is bound to reflect a distinctly masculine perspective. That leaves the other half of the church (actually more like two-thirds, since women are disproportionally represented in church) with little helpful guidance on the topic.
What's at stake?
The heavy emphasis on modesty can lead women to think of our bodies as dirty, dangerous things. What women hear and begin to understand about ourselves is that we can never be trusted, we are never fully human subjects, and our dignity as persons does not override our objectivity as sexual snares. By not acknowledging the existence or the goodness of sexual desires in women, we are quietly condemning a central aspect of what it means for people to be human.
As embodied beings, women need to be reminded that our sexual desires are good and are meant to be met in an exclusive and lifelong marriage relationship, and are not base stirrings to be ignored away. As women hear more and more that their bodies are nothing more than receptacles for male sexual desire, we deny the inherent goodness of our bodies and its natural desires. The body can get things wrong, to be sure—Paul is clear about this in Galatians 5:17. But the body is a really good thing; so good that God took one on when he showed up on earth.
We want to know that husbands get tired, and that wives have libidos. We want to hear about honoring our bodies and minds in marriage.
When it comes to sex and understanding how the female body works, which is complicated and requires direct and sometimes embarrassing conversation, we can't seem to muster the courage to talk frankly about our bodies. We say that God designed sex to be a wonderful thing, but we shy away from having conversations about the nuances of sex because we're afraid we will get something wrong. We're afraid we don't have all the answers, and we are especially afraid of what to say to women.
The language we often hear about sexuality also betrays a latent legalism. In what other facet of the Christian life are we told to "save ourselves" for something? The element of willpower implicit in enjoining people to save themselves would be scoffed at in any other area of the Christian life, where we know we are saved "by grace through faith." We can save ourselves sexually just as much as we can save ourselves by earning our way into heaven. We must rely on God's power and strength in this area of our lives as much as any other.
Changing Course
One of the most important parts of the conversation about female sexuality in the church is, really, that it happens at all. Female desire is largely unacknowledged, but I believe there are ways to initiate healthy conversations about sexuality with men and women. Here are a few:
Start conversations without worrying where they end up. If we hope to have great conversations about sex, we must give each other permission to have conversations about sex poorly. If you initiate discussions on the topic without trying to direct exactly where you want the conversation to go, it frees people up to air their problems and ask honest questions. Without unearthing people's true feelings about sex, your teaching will fail to address their real needs.
Lauren Winner's book Real Sex reminds us that "the Bible tells us that talking to one another about what is really going on in our lives is in fact not an intrusion at all, because what's going on in my life is already your concern; by dint of the baptism that made me your sister, my joys are your joys and my crises are your crises."
Talk about sex from the pulpit. The last sermon series I heard about sex was in the high school group I was volunteering with—and before that, I can't remember when. It's essential to teach about sex in all kinds of forums. However, when it's addressed from the pulpit, it's given a special stamp of legitimacy. It sends the message that this isn't something we're ashamed of. As a body of believers we signal that this topic is important to us and to God.
Include women in the conversation. Invite women to speak and preach and listen and to share bravely from their experiences at all stages of life. Sex doesn't get magically figured out after a person's wedding night, any more than the mysteries of marriage are suddenly solved when you exchange your vows.
The gift of sex requires the kind of unique, personal, tenacious attention that must be discussed and understood by men and women alike, together, and in honesty.
Give us wisdom. So, as women in the church, what do we want from our pastors? We want to see a well-modeled sexual ethic from our pastors, whether they are married, single, divorced, or widowed. We want to hear them talk about the goodness of marriage and sex, and the challenges of both. We want to know that husbands get tired, too, and that wives have libidos. We want to hear about honoring God with our bodies and minds in marriage. We don't need to hear explicit details—please, no!—but we need to know, in our sexuality, as well as in our lives, that we are not alone.
Laura Turner is a writer and speaker living in the Bay Area of California.
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