S
I met him in January, at church, and was blown-away by the brilliant light of God that emanated from him. We began dating, and I learned very early on that he was a virgin, waiting for marriage. Granted, we had a physical relationship, the whole "everything but" scenario, that really only serves as a technicality. Two months in, and I bailed out, because he didn't treat me the way I deserved, the way I wanted, it just wasn't...
But he inspired me. We remained friends, and after some pretty intense soul searching, I embraced purity, regardless of what came before, and the promise of perfection in God's plan for sexuality and marriage. I wasn't perfect, and our friendship was insanity because neither one of us was very good at maintaining boundaries. We would spend time together, and have these fantastic intellectual conversations about EVERYTHING, but more often than not, these "friend dates" ended in "friendly friend" sleepovers. We berated ourselves, each other, but just couldn't seem to break the cycle.
And then something broke. I am haunted by that night. It destroyed me. As a personal aside, I never much mourned the loss of my physical virginity. Losing a reclaimed spiritual virginity, on the other hand, is like being tortured endlessly. It feels somewhat like rape (see #11 above), because something that was sacred is gone. It feels like cheating on God, it does things to you emotionally that I would have never imagined.
Completely lost and broken because of that night, I RAN to a spiritual adviser, and poured out my heartache, not just at the things mentioned above, but by my anger and disappointment in him. The story of David and Bathsheba and Psalm 51 took on a personal significance in my life. I repented until I couldn't repent anymore. I cried for hours, I begged God's forgiveness, I was desperate for grace. I was so sorry for my behavior.
But I kept doing it. WE kept doing it. It has been a roller coaster of emotions. At the heart of both parties lies an undeniable desire for holiness and righteousness. We wake up to our sin, agree that it's not going to happen anymore, we fight, we say horrible things to each other, but like two magnets, we wind up in the same place. And sometimes, I find myself giving in to how much I care about him, miss him, and want to spend time with him. I find myself compromising what I know in my heart to be God's truth, for those hours of almost perfection with him.
I say "almost perfection" because of my own feelings towards the subject. I spent hours one evening searching scripture for every single mention of sexual immorality, looking for a way to make things right. I felt very convicted that marriage was the answer, which is laughable considering he won't even date me. I still can't shake the feeling that something is irrevocably GONE that I can't get back. That he can't get back either.
I poured all of this out to him one night in a "goodbye" letter. I opened up every feeling I had, only to end by sharing with him the reasons I could no longer be his friend, let alone anything else. But so many wonderful things about him bring me back to the yearning to have the friendship, if nothing else. It's a cycle. A painful, vicious cycle, whereby we are as undeniable as the law of gravity, followed by the pain of unfulfilled love. And I'm strong, Lord knows I'm a rock. It is only God's strength that allows me to get out of bed every morning with this breaking heart.
It's not supposed to be this way. Every part of me cries out from that truth. But I can't stop. I want to, and I don't want to. I want to run from the hold this particular sin has over me. And yet, every time I try, it's like being sliced open with a red-hot sword. I am miserable because of the situation, but I am miserable without the situation.
It doesn't help that we're equally obsessed with each other. When he is strong, I am weak. When I am strong, he is weak. This might sting the subject of this post, if he reads it, but my disappointment in him continues with each fall. I get so angry with him for not being able to say no. With myself, I expect the failure, because it's been a part of who I am for so long. But I expect so much more from him. I know that's not fair, but I think about biblical manhood, and Godly headship, and I want to hit him. And so I'm angry, because in addition to all the personal feelings I have about the situation, I feel like he lets me down. But conversely, I let him down in the same way. I am supposed to be a woman of God, who is strong enough to say no. But I find myself saying yes.
I beat myself up over that point as well. I remember a phrase on an honor statement that I signed that read "cause others to stumble" and I hate myself for my culpability in causing another's sin. Especially given the fact that he was a virgin before. I just feel like a terrible person, in general.
This is not God's promise. He didn't promise me a half-ass relationship with a man (yeah I said that). God's plan for love, sex, and marriage hinges on the fact that we wait for his perfection. His design is flawless, and I know it's worth doing right. That fact is the reason I embraced purity earlier this year. I chose to wait upon God's will, to wait for a "right" relationship. To know that in giving myself physically to a man, I followed God's plan, and to be fulfilled in that relationship. To wait for the covenant of marriage as a representation of God's perfect love. To not settle for something less because I was lonely, or impatient, or caught up in desire.
I failed.
Now I wonder if I ruined my chance. I am haunted by the thought that this might be the best it ever is. But I also know that is a lie.
So here I am, still trapped in this sin. I know that one day, this story will be part of a testimony that truly speaks of God's healing and redemptive power, but right now, I just feel broken and confused. I'm hurting, and sad, and disappointed, and angry. I keep waiting on God, but God keeps waiting on me to do the right thing. I know my time of temptation in this particular scenario is coming to an end, brought about by the choices of others, beyond my control. The time is coming when his presence will be removed from me, and this physical insanity will no longer be dragging us in. I have been advised and counselled to seek accountability, and it's something that I begged for he and I to do together, but he refuses. I realize that I don't need his assistance to request accountability for myself, but this is where the discussion of soul ties comes in, and healing, and a stronger presence of spiritual accountability.
I have learned that His grace is sufficient, for it is new every day. I have found a deeper love for God than I ever thought possible. I have discovered what a repentant heart feels like. I know what it is to mourn an intangible loss.
But most of all, I understand that chasing after God does not promise perfection, nor does it require it. It does, however, ask me to be honest, and to desire holiness, even when I fall short.
I am chasing after holiness to make this stop, and I pray like crazy, all the time about this. I don't know why I can't get it to work for me on this.
But he inspired me. We remained friends, and after some pretty intense soul searching, I embraced purity, regardless of what came before, and the promise of perfection in God's plan for sexuality and marriage. I wasn't perfect, and our friendship was insanity because neither one of us was very good at maintaining boundaries. We would spend time together, and have these fantastic intellectual conversations about EVERYTHING, but more often than not, these "friend dates" ended in "friendly friend" sleepovers. We berated ourselves, each other, but just couldn't seem to break the cycle.
And then something broke. I am haunted by that night. It destroyed me. As a personal aside, I never much mourned the loss of my physical virginity. Losing a reclaimed spiritual virginity, on the other hand, is like being tortured endlessly. It feels somewhat like rape (see #11 above), because something that was sacred is gone. It feels like cheating on God, it does things to you emotionally that I would have never imagined.
Completely lost and broken because of that night, I RAN to a spiritual adviser, and poured out my heartache, not just at the things mentioned above, but by my anger and disappointment in him. The story of David and Bathsheba and Psalm 51 took on a personal significance in my life. I repented until I couldn't repent anymore. I cried for hours, I begged God's forgiveness, I was desperate for grace. I was so sorry for my behavior.
But I kept doing it. WE kept doing it. It has been a roller coaster of emotions. At the heart of both parties lies an undeniable desire for holiness and righteousness. We wake up to our sin, agree that it's not going to happen anymore, we fight, we say horrible things to each other, but like two magnets, we wind up in the same place. And sometimes, I find myself giving in to how much I care about him, miss him, and want to spend time with him. I find myself compromising what I know in my heart to be God's truth, for those hours of almost perfection with him.
I say "almost perfection" because of my own feelings towards the subject. I spent hours one evening searching scripture for every single mention of sexual immorality, looking for a way to make things right. I felt very convicted that marriage was the answer, which is laughable considering he won't even date me. I still can't shake the feeling that something is irrevocably GONE that I can't get back. That he can't get back either.
I poured all of this out to him one night in a "goodbye" letter. I opened up every feeling I had, only to end by sharing with him the reasons I could no longer be his friend, let alone anything else. But so many wonderful things about him bring me back to the yearning to have the friendship, if nothing else. It's a cycle. A painful, vicious cycle, whereby we are as undeniable as the law of gravity, followed by the pain of unfulfilled love. And I'm strong, Lord knows I'm a rock. It is only God's strength that allows me to get out of bed every morning with this breaking heart.
It's not supposed to be this way. Every part of me cries out from that truth. But I can't stop. I want to, and I don't want to. I want to run from the hold this particular sin has over me. And yet, every time I try, it's like being sliced open with a red-hot sword. I am miserable because of the situation, but I am miserable without the situation.
It doesn't help that we're equally obsessed with each other. When he is strong, I am weak. When I am strong, he is weak. This might sting the subject of this post, if he reads it, but my disappointment in him continues with each fall. I get so angry with him for not being able to say no. With myself, I expect the failure, because it's been a part of who I am for so long. But I expect so much more from him. I know that's not fair, but I think about biblical manhood, and Godly headship, and I want to hit him. And so I'm angry, because in addition to all the personal feelings I have about the situation, I feel like he lets me down. But conversely, I let him down in the same way. I am supposed to be a woman of God, who is strong enough to say no. But I find myself saying yes.
I beat myself up over that point as well. I remember a phrase on an honor statement that I signed that read "cause others to stumble" and I hate myself for my culpability in causing another's sin. Especially given the fact that he was a virgin before. I just feel like a terrible person, in general.
This is not God's promise. He didn't promise me a half-ass relationship with a man (yeah I said that). God's plan for love, sex, and marriage hinges on the fact that we wait for his perfection. His design is flawless, and I know it's worth doing right. That fact is the reason I embraced purity earlier this year. I chose to wait upon God's will, to wait for a "right" relationship. To know that in giving myself physically to a man, I followed God's plan, and to be fulfilled in that relationship. To wait for the covenant of marriage as a representation of God's perfect love. To not settle for something less because I was lonely, or impatient, or caught up in desire.
I failed.
Now I wonder if I ruined my chance. I am haunted by the thought that this might be the best it ever is. But I also know that is a lie.
So here I am, still trapped in this sin. I know that one day, this story will be part of a testimony that truly speaks of God's healing and redemptive power, but right now, I just feel broken and confused. I'm hurting, and sad, and disappointed, and angry. I keep waiting on God, but God keeps waiting on me to do the right thing. I know my time of temptation in this particular scenario is coming to an end, brought about by the choices of others, beyond my control. The time is coming when his presence will be removed from me, and this physical insanity will no longer be dragging us in. I have been advised and counselled to seek accountability, and it's something that I begged for he and I to do together, but he refuses. I realize that I don't need his assistance to request accountability for myself, but this is where the discussion of soul ties comes in, and healing, and a stronger presence of spiritual accountability.
I have learned that His grace is sufficient, for it is new every day. I have found a deeper love for God than I ever thought possible. I have discovered what a repentant heart feels like. I know what it is to mourn an intangible loss.
But most of all, I understand that chasing after God does not promise perfection, nor does it require it. It does, however, ask me to be honest, and to desire holiness, even when I fall short.
I am chasing after holiness to make this stop, and I pray like crazy, all the time about this. I don't know why I can't get it to work for me on this.
He does promise we'll never be tempted with more than we can handle (with His help of course.)