I want to have sex.

Yes, I said it. I want to have sex.

Crazy, wild, steamy, lip-biting, hair-grabbing, nail-digging-on-the-skin, lose-my-breath sex; the most intimate act of man and woman as they become one. Sex that is pure and holy. Sex that is enveloped in sobriety, humility, and Love. The kind that has such deep closeness, it translates to the eternal covenant of two strangers who have sworn before God and people that they will be together forever. No exit clause. No giving up. The kind that has passion that is self-giving, not self-serving. It's the kind that aims to please the other. It is romance in motion that is so satisfyingly beautiful to the One who designed and created it, He considers it worship in the bedroom.

I've never had this kind of sex, but I've already had sex. The kind that leaves you feeling hollow after. The kind you won't remember because the heavy buzz in your head is intense enough to wipe out fragments of it. The kind you don't ever want to tell anyone because the mere thought of it consumes you with regret. The kind that makes you question your worth as a woman, because you have an inkling in your heart that every time you spread your legs and allow him in, it's not just your body he penetrates, but your soul as well. Oh, I've had that. Many times.

When I was 16, I was sitting on a throne of self-reliance and pride. I won't ever have sex till I'm married, I promised myself. I was acting all high and mighty, telling my then-boyfriend he can get it elsewhere, because I ain't giving it to him. How cocky. I was so consumed with the desire to belong in the small percentage of the great, perfect, and good women who have preserved themselves until the veil was lifted and the promise sealed with a kiss.

But pride comes before the fall.

Imagine the throbbing failure I felt when I ended up giving myself to him, at the back of his car, my mouth reeking of tequila from the night of partying. And once you experience this physical drug, there's no turning back. Well, at least for me; at least back then.

Was there remorse? Sure. But was it sincere? I don't think so. Once I had a taste of it, I knew it was going to be a cha-cha of regret and giving in, until I finally decided to stop the former and just go full on with the latter. Eventually, my heart has become calloused.

When that relationship ended, I promised myself I will wait and make things right. But truth is, it took only a few years after the break up that I found my young, 22-year-old self bed-surfing with strangers; men whose names I can no longer remember today.

I was such a fool to think that I could reduce the most powerful form of human connection to an afterparty hobby, as if it was an activity I could simply partake in and not receive inescapable consequences from. I had defiled something so sacred and priceless, stashed it in my pocket so I can tinker with it to my own gratification, and put my own price tag on it. A cheap and easy one at that.

I was stupid. I was careless. But more importantly, I didn't know what I was getting myself into (1 Corinthians 6:18 states that whoever sins sexually is sinning against their own body). I didn't even know the very essence and purpose of sex, I just bought into the lie that it's hot, it's acceptable, and teenagers who were doing it were the cool kids; that it was going to give me the grown up sensation of adulthood most of us adolescents yearned for. Boy, was I wrong.

Every bad thing I'm trying to detangle myself out of today, I entangled myself with yesterday; especially the sin of lust. The memories aren't completely wiped out, and when I bump into a guy from my dirty, messy past, I feel my body respond strongly to him, whether in revolt, or gravitating towards the recollection of our time together. Sex is powerful. It binds souls whether we like it or not. How grateful I am that all things are new in Christ (2 Corinthians 5:17). I praise God that He can make us whole again only by His grace, that despite our shame we can get up, dust ourselves off, and walk forward with our heads held high. In Isaiah 1:18, it says, "Though your sins are like scarlet, I will make them white as snow. Though they are red as crimson, I will make them white as wool." It really wasn't I who saved myself from the monster of lust. I simply do not have that strength (I can very much relate to Paul's frustration in Romans 7:15, "I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate, I do.").

It's been 4 years since my last empty sexcapade, and I can honestly tell you that pursuing purity has been one of the most challenging yet most fulfilling decisions of my life. How ludicrous of me to think that I could just jump into that giant pool of a mess and simply get out whenever I wanted to, unscathed. As if it's that easy. How terribly arrogant of me. The pursuit of purity is difficult, but it is possible and totally worth it. Often times, when temptation annoyingly tugs on my flesh incessantly, I have to remind myself why I am choosing to wait. Of course I stumble and fall alone (read about that here), but never have I been naked with someone else since then, only by God's grace (2 Corinthians 12:10 [...] For when I am weak, He is strong.).

Tito Tim (Keller) puts it so eloquently—

The Christian sex ethic is: no sex outside marriage. Now what is that all about? Well, here's what it's all about. When you have sex outside marriage, what you're saying is, "I wanna have physical, external nakedness and vulnerability, but I don't wanna give you PERSONAL nakedness and vulnerability." In other words, "Let's be naked physically, but I don't wanna actually give myself to you in every other way. I don't wanna get married to you. I don't wanna give up my independence, I don't wanna give up my options. I don't wanna back up physical vulnerability with ACTUAL, PERSONAL, COMPLETE nakedness and vulnerability. I don't wanna do that!" And Jesus Christ says, when you, as for physical nakedness, when you don't have the integrity or the guts to back it up with personal... In other words, if you're not willing to put your whole heart there, that's lust. And when you do that, even in fantasy, you're stabbing yourself in the heart.

As I commit to unlearn my dangerous and superficial views on sex, I am acknowledging that it has a purpose and design far greater than I could ever make sense of. God is an intelligent Designer. The boundaries He put on certain aspects in life are there for a reason. It is there to protect us, to keep us free.
As I continue on my path, I now realize that sex is a not a means to romance. It is not a right. It is a gift; the total outpouring and giving of one's self to the person you're meant to experience a God kind of Love with for all eternity.

If you are struggling with purity but would like to pursue it, I want to encourage you. It is possible, only through Grace. Wait. Be still. Know the Creator who created it. Ask questions why He did. Let the Divine define this for you. It doesn't have to be this meaningless, consuming compulsion that produces deep-seated heartaches, confusion, and even self-hate. Aletheia Luna said, "Sexual promiscuity is a reflection of inner feelings of ugliness and worthlessness." What a true human paradox. Please do not get me wrong, I am sharing this here because I am agreeing to it based on my own personal experiences. Maybe you are a woman who enjoys casual sex and thinks nothing of it. But the very fact that this is your viewpoint may be a symptom of a deeper issue. If God commands us to wait until marriage before we get to have it, if He values sex that much, then there has got to be certain levels of maturity, commitment, and wisdom required for people to enjoy it.

As for me, I'll stick around the sleepless nights and relentless moments of weakness and call upon my Savior to give me strength. After all, I changed my mind. I don't just want to have sex. I want to worship in the bedroom.



Tiis-tiis mga beshie. Sex is great, it's worth the wait,
—D