To the woman who has fallen off her purity

Dear you,

First thing’s first, I know how much you’ve mustered the tenacity and strength to fight the battle of promiscuity. I can imagine you declaring to yourself that enough is enough, that you finally have figured out your worth, and you’re determined to be whole again, and this time, on your own. I know what it’s like to have the burning desire to reclaim your womanhood for God and yourself. I can imagine you doing a little jig every time you said no to a possible hook up, because I do that, too—dance a little. I can imagine you feeling the wind of victory as your standards rise higher every time you see a glimpse of truth regarding you value.

I know how it feels; and as much as you want to take credit for the sex-free streak you’ve had for a long time, you must realize that it’s not because of you. It’s not because you’re strong-willed or good. It’s because Grace has empowered you to. 

But pride comes before the fall, and for whatever lie you believed, you now find yourself filled with deep regret, because you’re back at square 1.

I know what it’s like. I know the cunning deceit the enemy has swayed you with, making you want to use sex as a means to escape, to be validated, to feel accepted and wanted, even if it’s just for a few minutes.

I know how it feels to use your body as bait, lathering it with potions and lotions to intoxicate him into a night of sensual pleasure. You make sure everything’s perfect—your hair, your skin, your dress. 

I know how it feels like to allow his hands to go to places you’ve claimed to be your own, but the desire to feel desired is just too intense. 

And as much as it felt good in the moment, that’s just it—a moment. When the high starts to fade and the reality starts to sink in, your heart begins to crumble because you realize the gravity of what you have done—not just to your body, but also to your soul, and his. Clearly you know—in your heart of hearts—it was a mistake. One that cannot be undone.

I know what the violent warfare feels like inside of you, because I’ve felt that, too. The brutal push and pull tug-o-war with your fleshly husk and struggling spirit, because the mind says no but the body says go. 

I know you know you’re a smart, wise, young woman, but this seems bigger than you, like a roaring wave, and so you cling onto the remnant of your faith’s sinking ship because it feels like you’re drowning in your own mind. The way you justify the situation, the scenario, the lies the enemy starts to convince you with in your own voice—it’s all too paralyzing.

But the truth is, you don’t want this man. You just had sex with him. The reason is that simple; but fact is, sex is complex.

You know that sex is more than just the physical. Even if you allowed it to happen, you are well aware that you had to put up emotional walls to make sure you’re heart is protected. Unfortunately, there’s no condom for the spirit. You repeat affirmations that you’re strong enough not to get attached, but the moment he messages you, you get weak in the knees. You will yourself to believe that he can enter into you and take nothing as he leaves, but we both know that isn’t the truth. Sex apart from God does nothing but rob, and you know it, for sex is the mingling of souls, the total giving of one’s self. It bonds you with the person, whether you like it or not. It isn’t just a skin-to-skin contact. It’s always, always beyond that.

We both know that the satisfaction you seek from men is nothing but counterfeit intimacy. It is cheap, quick to die, and it doesn’t see through you. It misses out on the things you value most about your womanhood, like your character, your kindness, or your wisdom. 

BUT THERE IS BEAUTY IN BROKENNESS. 

I’m not going to tell you to pick yourself up this time, because we both know you can’t. Seek God’s hand. Let Him pick you up. Recklessly pursue His Grace. Let Him remind you of your value and identity in Christ, because that’s the only real thing about who you are. Surrender your sexuality, your struggles, your fears. Cry. Weep. Grieve. Mourn. We both know that it’s difficult and debilitating, but it’s better to hand these over at the foot of the cross, instead of grasping it in your own, limited, finite, trembling heart. Let the waves of consequences crash over you, don’t forget the feeling of regret, for it is a sobering tool necessary for you to come into your senses every time temptation calls. But remember to hold on to the hands of the One who anchors you, minute by minute, sometimes, even second by second. 

God knows your aches. He sees you struggle. Hope. Hope that you will be renewed as the days go by, so long as you obey. YOU MUST OBEY. There’s no other way. Ask for forgiveness, then forgive yourself. You are not defined by this, and He still sees you as good, anyway. It’s not because you are, but His Son is. You were brought for a price, and you are far more precious than rubies. Believe it, that’s the truth about you. Trust that the God you serve is a God of transformation and restoration—that even if you see yourself worn, torn, and broken, He is the Master Craftsman who can clean you, mold you, and polish you back into your purity and innocence. It is not impossible, because with God, nothing is.

1 Corinthians 7:23

You were bought for a price; do not become slaves of human beings.

—D