The Reward For My Purity Is NOT Sex

What if I never get to have sex again?

It's been months of sobriety from my porn and masturbation addiction, and if I'm going to be truly honest, I've never felt freer, like I now have control over the monster that used to have its claws latched onto my soul, puppeting me deeper into my destructive hedonism. It was necessary for me to accept God's design for sex (that it is the gift of intimacy in marriage), His authority over my life, and His ownership over my body for me to finally be unchained from my slavery to lust.

So the other day, given that I have been pursuing purity for over 5 years now, I couldn't help but think about single-blessedness. What if God doesn't give me a man? What if God's plan for my life is singlehood till death? What if I never get to have sex again?

I used to be so proud and immature, lording my purity over God's head.

"I've been chaste for 2 years, now where's my Prince Charming???"
"Okay God, don't you think I've waited long enough?! I really want to have sex again!"

Whenever I would remember how my conversations with God went in the past, I couldn't help but laugh at myself. How can I even twist God's arm and bargain for a relationship this way? It was desperate, really, and the more alarming part is, my heart wasn't in the right place. I only pursued purity because I was waiting to be rewarded. Ultimately, I was after the gift, not the Giver.

Now that I'm older and a little wiser, I've come to realize that my pursuit of purity is FOR ME—not for my future spouse, not for God—it is ultimately first and foremost, FOR ME.

Purity is not just something spiritually, emotionally, and mentally beneficial. It is very practical as well. As I continue to uphold the sanctity of sex in the confines of marriage, I am also able to:

1. Easily discern whether a man wants me for my authentic self or merely for my body. I wouldn't ever want to entertain someone who only sees me as a piece of meat to taste, and then later on give a "review" to his friends. Blegh. It automatically sifts the type of men I should consider in terms of an exclusive relationship. If someone pressures me to compromise in this area of my life, he is simply not the man for me. He has to understand that I want the main thing to be the MAIN THING, and I don't want our relationship's focus being sidetracked by sex.

2. Live in peace. I remember living in promiscuity and having NO peace at all. Zero. Zilch. Nada. I was always restless. "Am I pregnant? What if he's given me an STD? How do I act cool if I bump into an old hook up?" Yowza. To be honest, it wasn't as if these guys pleasured me the best way they could. I mean, why would they? They don't even love me, so why do I expect them to "serve" me in the bedroom? Sex is serving your loved one. And since I used to treat it as nothing but a physical act, I shouldn't expect them to satisfy me. They only wanted to satisfy themselves using me. Ugly truth.

3. Protect myself from unnecessary emotional pains. Believe it or not, whether you like it or not, sex bonds people. That's what it does. To say that it is nothing but a "pleasurable handshake" today is one, big, fat lie. Sex is powerful, it mingles souls together. I used to wonder why I always end up having strong emotions for someone who never treated me right, and in hindsight, it's because we had slept with each other. It clouds our reason, and it fools us into thinking that "we're in love," when in reality, we're just high from all the sex we've had. It's crazy how this world makes us sold to the idea that it means nothing, that it's okay to chase it just for the pleasure, and nothing more. Sex will always be an act connected to our minds, hearts, and souls. It was designed to be that way. To go against its design is like chewing food and spitting it out, because we only want to be pleasured by the "taste" of it.

4. Stop objectifying men and myself. When I was sleeping around and hooking up, I always physically gauged men. I ranked and rated them and wondered if they'd be good in bed with me. It was a sick habit. I'd imagine us sleeping together especially if I was attracted to them. It also made me put on a persona, a hypersexualized version of myself, to lure them into having sex with me. I always calculated my moves to snag the guy, and looking back, it was so unnatural and restricting of the woman I really wanted to become. The more I pursued purity, the more I was set free from this habit. It's so liberating to be detach from malice and wrong motives. I still struggle sometimes, but more often than not, I now see men as brothers to help sharpen and chisel into the likeness of Christ.

To clarify, when I say my pursuit of purity is FOR GOD, it means it is my obedience to Him, driven by my love for Him, that makes me press on. My purity is NOT for His benefit. He does not need my purity. I DO. My purity is nothing but a minute, trivial pursuit, compared to the love Christ has shown me—the sacrifice He had to go through to set me free and save me.

The reward of my purity is my experience of God's goodness and love despite this thorn in my flesh. I remember someone say, "Singleness shows the sufficiency of the Gospel." What a beautiful truth. In a time where the world shoves mindless and heartless sex down our throats, telling us that we're missing out, that we are incomplete if we've never had it, the Gospel says otherwise. It's true. Only Jesus will ever fill that void. My pursuit of purity has been a rollercoaster ride, an adventure on its own. I won't deny, it has been both challenging and fulfilling. And to be completely honest, it is much more difficult to deal with the consequences of my promiscuity than to keep my commitment to purity.

As Philip Yancey perfectly wrote in his book, The Jesus I Never Knew:

Mauriac concluded that self-discipline, repression, and rational argument are inadequate weapons to use in fighting the impulse toward impurity. In the end, he could find only one reason to be pure, and that is what Jesus presented in the Beatitudes: “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.”

In Mauriac's words, “Impurity separates us from God. The spiritual life obeys laws as verifiable as those of the physical world…. Purity is the condition for a higher love—for a possession superior to all possessions: that of God. Yes, that is what’s at stake, and nothing less.”

Reading François Mauriac's words did not end my struggle with lust. But I must say, beyond all doubt, that I have found his analysis to be true. The love God holds out to us requires that our faculties be cleansed and purified before we can receive a higher love, one attainable in no other way. That is the motive to stay pure. By harboring lust, I limit my own intimacy with God. The pure in heart are truly blessed, for they will see God. It is as simple, and as difficult, as that.

This pursuit pushes me to check who fills the depths of my insatiable appetites, the profound longings of my soul, because I know that when I am satisfied in God, I can say no to the cheap imitations and short-lived pleasure this world has to offer. There are two types of pleasure, the illegitimate—being I enjoy it now and suffer the consequences later, and the legitimate—being I suffer now and enjoy it later, when the time and context is right. I choose the latter. It is written in Proverbs 27:7, "When you are full, you will not even eat honey. When you are hungry, even something bitter tastes sweet." I do not have to settle for crumbs, I can trust that there is an abundant feast God has prepared for me.

The reward of my purity is not sex. It is the Creator of intimacy Himself. Truthfully, God is better than the best thing this world has to offer. Call me crazy, but yes, even sex.



Sex is great, it's worth the wait.
—D