When I played the music video for the song of the summer, "Blurred Lines," topless women sashayed across my screen to the delight of Robin Thicke, Pharrell Williams and T.I., and my heart sank.

It was my fault. I should've noticed the "unrated version" warning in parentheses before I clicked on the link, but when my friend told me about her new summer jam, I hurried to check it out.

It sank even further when I watched on the "rated" version, which somehow managed to be even more offensive—"degrading" according to Thicke himself. No longer caught up in the boobs on my screen, I noticed the performers' leering, creepy eyes that couldn't unglue themselves from the female dancers' (covered) butts.

My heart sank because I recognized the song. Without knowing the name or artist, I'd already gotten hooked on Thicke's "Blurred Lines," with its infectious melody and dance-a-licious groove. My kids and I had raised our hands and wiggled our bodies to it in the car. We'd thrown dish-washing dance parties in its honor!

That said, after seeing the video, I realized my own lines toward the song had been quite blurred. As brilliant as its melody and groove are, the idea behind the song—prodding a "good girl" to give in to Thicke's come-ons ("You know you want it")— sent me over the edge... or, to be honest, made me want to send Thicke over one.

So I faced the conundrum: What to do when a message is at odds with the medium? More specifically, how could I live out Paul's instructions in Philippians 4:8 think about "whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is ...

Subscriber access only You have reached the end of this Article Preview

To continue reading, subscribe now. Subscribers have full digital access.