SeX-Rated

Can I keep it a “hunnid” with you for one second? I mean like, really. Here’s the thing. I like sex - that sounds weird to say out loud. I haven’t had a lot of sexual encounters but, I like sex. I, also, like to not be touched. I like for a guy to grab me and hold me like Ross kissing Rachel for the first time in Central Park (Friends) or Nick kissing Jess after a game of True American (New Girl). I, also, like to be left alone. My sex drive is higher when I’m with the person I’m claiming as my man and then, it disappears when there’s no one around. I try to keep myself busy with my job and, thankfully, when I’m single, I’m not in heat. 

The church talks about sex, but we don’t really talk about sex. We talk about the G-rated sex. I don’t really know what that means, but I know it’s the sex that’s for 13 years and younger. We talk about what to do to keep ourselves occupied and what not to do when we’re not married. The X-rated content is for married couples only and sometimes not even then (so, I’ve heard). But, you see, there are some things that I want to know. I have questions. Plenty of questions. I have questions like, what happens to us women who, like me, are in the in-between? What about the ones who love sex? What about the one, who on a scale of 1 to maybe 7, likes sex? 

When I step out into the world, I feel strange for not being on 10 with sex. On the flip side, when I step into the church, I feel strange for liking sex, even a little bit. Heck, it’s super strange for me to even be writing about this right now, this very moment. I mean, does God judge me for liking sex? Does He judge me for already been down that road? I know that on the surface, God isn’t the type to hold things against me, but it’s taken me a long time to shake the shame that I’ve carried from the “shall-not-be-named-nights.” I don’t even feel comfortable talking to someone I know about my, shall I call them, “adventures”. My closest friends don’t even know the details. I have a closet of bones inside of a closet, that’s labeled with names. The dust that surrounds them are the details that are tucked underneath their respective bones as much as possible. No one can go in there. Not even myself. I lock them away and I don’t turn back. 

If that’s not crazy enough, try this one. I don’t even regret those moments. I mean, I’ve regretted them in the sense that, “Girl, you know better. Let’s not go down this road again.” But, in the grand scheme of things, I do not regret them. Those moments have made me who I am, and they are a part of me. Even though they’re in a closet, tucked away, they are a part of me. Is that backwards? What happens to me in this instance? I’ve dealt with the consequences and I have moved on. I’ve given them to God. He’s cleaned and dressed my wounds. For the most part, I believe I’ve healed but those bones are still there, so have I really moved on? I don’t visit them. I don’t pop my head through a peep-hole to say what’s up. They’re just there, disintegrating. 

As I write this, I’m reminded of the story of David, and Bathsheba (2 Samuel 11). David, who was King of the Israelites, was home chillin’ while his troops were out on the battlefield, fighting a war with the Ammonites. One evening, he decided to star gaze on the roof but instead he saw a bathing woman from a far off and lusted after her. The Bible says that, “David sent messengers to get her” and then “slept with her” when she came to him. Some time passed before word got to David about her pregnancy and thus began a spiral of cover-ups. To protect his image, David first tried to send Bathsheba’s husband, Uriah, home in hopes that the baby would be passed off as his. When that didn’t work, he had Uriah murdered and then married Bathsheba. In doing so, he was revered as a hero and as an honorable man. 

Some time later, a prophet named Nathan came to visit David. During his visit, he told David a story of a rich man who stole a lamb from a poor man. Not only did this rich man steal the lamb but he killed it in order to prepare a meal for a traveling friend. Upon hearing this, David was outraged. How could a man, take what wasn’t his when he had of his own? David demanded that the identity of this man be revealed so that he could be dealt with harshly. Nathan then said, “You are this man (2 Samuel 12:7).” Nathan then told David, “You had it all. You had everything you could ever want and if you had just asked, you would have been given more (paraphrase).” The consequences of David’s one choice was death. The death of an innocent man and the death of an innocent child. The Bible talks about David being remorseful. He fasted and prayed for days, hoping that God would change His mind and save the child, but the child still died. 
As I work through reading this story, I find beauty in it because I remember that God called David, “A man after his own heart (1 Samuel 13:14 CSB).” I find beauty in this because David had skeletons in his closet and God loved him anyway. David was a murderer, a manipulator and a liar but God sent his son to die for his sins anyway. Skeletons don’t separate you from God. Dust doesn’t build up high enough where God can’t reach you and even if it does, there’s a vacuum. God will stop at nothing to get to you and nothing changes that. Not your 21 questions, not your confusion, not even your multiple one-night choices. You’re still a woman after God’s own heart. He still loves you and knowing everything, you’d ever do, He still died to meet you. I may not know a lot of things but I do know one thing is for sure - if He had to do it all again, He’d do it all again.